


The Dark Cavalier

by sabershadowkat



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 09:55:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4783064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabershadowkat/pseuds/sabershadowkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Death comes to all of us. When he came to Xander, he offered him a job... as his apprentice."<br/>Post Season 4</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dark Cavalier

 

**The Dark Cavalier**

 

#####  [By Saber ShadowKitten](mailto:daschus@sabershadowkat.com)

  
  
  


I am the Dark Cavalier; I am the Last Lover...   
-Margaret Widdemer   


Death? Why this fuss about Death? Use your imagination, try to visualize a world without Death!   
-Charolette Perkins Gilman   


I think you'll find that random and unprovoked executions will keep your workforce alert and motivated.   
-ST: DS9, "Through the Looking Glass"   


To die will be an awfully big adventure!   
-James Barrie,  _Peter Pan_    
  
  


**Prologue**    
  
  


_Death comes to all of us._  
_When he came to Xander, he offered him a job... as his apprentice._    
  
  
  
  


"Listen, I've met Death, and once you get past that whole facelessness thing and the stigma that he's there to basically kill you, he's a pretty cool guy. Plays a mean game of chess. But don't challenge him to a game of Twister. Death has a lousy sense of humor.   


"Now, you're probably going: 'Yeah, so? What do I care about Death's lack of funnybone?' I'll tell you why -- your number's up, buddy, and Death's here to take you.   


"You can stop laughing at any time. I may have a better sense of humor than the Big Cheese, but it's not that much better. Having people laugh at you tends to get old real fast.   


"Thank you. As I was saying, it's time to say  _adieu_  to the world because you're about to leave it forever. See this scythe? It's what I'm going to use-- Hey! I was talking to you!   


"'Are we jogging?'   


"You can stop trying to run away from me. I can keep up with you indefinitely. It's one of the perks of being one of Death's apprentices. That, and the ability to eat all the McDonald's I want without worrying about my complexion.   


"So, anyway, before your Marion Jones impersonation, I was trying to explain that it's Time for you to die. No, no, no, don't beg. I hate begging. It doesn't make a difference and it's annoying as hell. I don't chose who goes, I just follow orders.   


"See this list? I have twelve more people after you to Collect before I can call it a day. Twelve. And there's a movie I want to go see at eight, so can you please stop sobbing?   


"Okay," Xander Harris spun the scythe he'd materialized in his hands, then thumped the pole end on the pavement, "are you ready to meet your Maker?"   


The balding, overweight forty-year-old man standing in front of Xander grabbed his chest and fell to his knees. His pudgy face became red and he began to gasp for air. Several people walking down the semi-busy street stopped to ask the man if he was all right.   


No one noticed Xander standing there, dressed in black jeans and a white tee-shirt, holding a six-foot, sharply bladed scythe.   


Xander watched dispassionately as the man collapsed. The few concerned citizens did their best to help the guy.  _911_  was called. Someone began CPR. But the man was dead before the ambulance arrived.   


Xander removed a small notebook and pen from his back pocket. He flipped it open to the list of names he'd shown the now-dead man and drew a line through the guy's name. Beside the crossed-off name he wrote: "heart attack."   


The corners of Xander's mouth went up. He loved it when he scared people to death.   


The shaggy-haired brunette cast another dispassionate eye over the scene. Then, he tucked the notebook and pen back into his pocket, hoisted the scythe onto his shoulder, and walked away.   
  
  
  
  


**Part One**    
  
  
  
  


The campus quad was crowded with students enjoying the sunny afternoon. Young men and women were lounging around on the grass or congregating at a group of tables. Some were playing frisbee, others were involved in a pick-up game of football, and a very few had their noses in textbooks.   


"Hey, Brad."   


Brad shaded his eyes with his hand and looked up. "Deathboy!"   


Xander scowled as the lanky redhead stood. "Don't call me that."   


"My most humble apologies, Dark Cavalier," Brad mock-groveled, brushing the grass cuttings from the back of his shorts.   


"Don't call me that, either," Xander growled.   


"Ooh, someone's got a wedgie from hell," Brad teased. "Is Death's favorite Collector having a bad day?"   


Xander shoved his hands in his black jeans' pockets and sighed. "Sorry, Brad. I'm just not looking forward to this tour."   


"You're my replacement?" Brad was surprised. "I thought only newbies like me worked a hellmouth."   


"Yeah, well, there were complaints about the fact that I never had to work one," Xander said unhappily.   


"Someone made a complaint about  _you_?" Brad said incredulously. "But... but... you're the Dark Cavalier! You're, like, the supreme understudy to the Top Banana himself! Your name is legend at the training school, and  _everyone_  wants to be like you!"   


"Not everybody," Xander responded wryly.   


"That just sucks, man," Brad stated. "When I get back to the Academy, I'm going to make a complaint against the complainer."   


"I don't think that'll help," Xander said. "The Collections Board knows who attended my section during my teaching tour, so they'll discount anything my former students say that's not related to my teaching style."   


"That still sucks," Brad said. He sighed on Xander's behalf. "And this hellmouth is so boring, too. The demons do all the work. You just have to stand there and make sure the one on the list gets Collected. I don't think I materialized my scythe my entire tour."   


"That's why new Collectors usually start out on a hellmouth," Xander told him. "It's an easy way to become accustomed to constantly seeing death."   


Brad frowned. "If that's the reason, why didn't you do it?"   


Xander smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant one. "I used to live on a hellmouth. This one, in fact."   


The redhead's blue eyes widened to comical proportions. "You lived here in Sunnydale?"   


"Sure did," Xander shook his head like he couldn't believe it himself, "for nineteen years."   


"How long have you been Gone?" Brad asked curiously, referring to the day Xander became a Collector.   


"In Death years, 835," Xander replied. He glanced at his chronograph, which automatically adjusted to the current date and time of whatever realm he was in. "In Earth years, this realm, about a year-and-a-half."   


"Dude, that means the people you used to know may still live here," Brad said.   


Xander shrugged. "Probably, unless they were Collected while I've been Gone. Doesn't matter to me, either way. I'm here to do my job, not catch up on gossip."   


"Boy, I don't think I'd be able to go back to my old stomping grounds and see my family and friends," Brad said. "I guess that's why you're Death's favorite and I'm not, huh?"   


"Guess so," Xander said aloofly.   


"Well, good luck, Xander," Brad said. "If you get too bored, Stevenson Hall, Room 308 has some hotties that like to party."   


One side of Xander's mouth quirked. "I'll remember that."   


Brad gave the brunette a thumbs up sign and walked to a nearby tree. The redhead stopped in front of it, turned, and called over to Xander, "Emerson, Room 18. Great bongs!"   


"Get out of here, Brad," Xander said with a laugh.   


Brad smiled, waved, walked into the tree and disappeared.   


Xander shook his head, his laugh trailing into a soft chuckle. After 835 years, it still amused him that ordinary oak trees were actually doorways to Death's domain. Even in arid realms, where nothing grew but the sand dunes, there was at least one oak tree standing for the Collectors.   


All oak trees led to the Hall of Doors, which was literally an extremely long hallway lined with doors. Each door led to a different realm, arranged alphabetically. It was a real pain to walk from the Academy to Zxigswy.   


Collectors, as the apprentices or helpers of Death were called, were governed by the Collections Board, which resided at the Academy. The Collections Board was made up of representatives from each of the hundreds of realms. They created the lists of those to be Collected -- those who were supposed to die -- and messengered them to the Collectors on a daily basis. They were management, overseeing the Collectors' job performance, assigning tours of duty, and acting as disciplinarians.   


Every Collector answered to the Collections Board... except for Xander Harris. Xander answered only to Death himself, which didn't always make everyone Xander's friend and was probably why he had to do a tour on a hellmouth this late in the game.   


Xander was Death's Dark Cavalier, selected and trained specifically by the Master of Time. Whereas all the other Collectors went directly into the Academy upon being chosen, Xander had been taken under Death's wing and made his number one apprentice.   


Their teacher-student relationship was intensely intimate, which was how Xander got the nickname "Deathboy" -- he was Death's Boy. And Death was Xander's Master, in every connotation of the word, and was marked as such.   


When Xander was sent by Death to the Academy to take the MCE -- Master Collector Exam -- the brunette achieved perfect scores. No apprentice had ever done that before, and Xander Harris instantly became a legend. Because of this, his first tour of duty had been in Bavariash, a harsh realm populated by children who only grew to child-bearing age before they were Collected.   


Xander had done his tour without batting an eye, adding to his reputation. Students at the Academy were in awe of him, and when it was his turn to teach even post-graduates tried to attend.   


The notoriety should have gone to Xander's head, as it would have any other Collector emulated to the extent that he was. It should have made him pompous and arrogant. It should have made him a demanding, a spoiled brat who always got his way because he was the apple of Death's one-eyed willy.   


It should have, but it didn't.   


Xander Harris was a bit cold when it came to doing his job, but to the other Collectors he was a friendly, easy-going human who always had time to listen, gave advice when asked and held his tongue when not. The brunette did scut work without complaint when told, and walked the Hall of Doors like the other Collectors, rather than riding in the Privileged cab.   


There were only two things he did that no one else could do: still attain perfect scores on any test and live at Death's house instead of at the Academy. However, he boasted about neither. He simply went about his business like every other Collector under Death's dominion.   


Xander glanced around the crowded quad at U.C. Sunnydale, trying to decide if anything had changed in the 835 years -- one-and-a-half Earth years, he corrected himself -- since he'd been Gone. He moved through the groups of students, invisible to them, although he would've blended in just fine. Since Death had chosen him, he had stopped aging. He was to forever look like an almost-twenty-year-old with shaggy dark hair, muscular body, and a sex drive at its peak. The single difference was the mark that Death had made between his shoulderblades on his back.   


That was, he looked the same unless he was in a frisky mood. Then, he put his Prince Albert in. Death loved it when Xander wore nothing but the hoop of silver at the end of his dick. And the Master Over Life certainly knew how to show his appreciation.   


Xander found himself following a path he hadn't walked in a very long time, heading away from campus and towards the center of Sunnydale. Things seemed to be the same, including the ruins of the old high school. On Main Street, the Expresso Pump was still pumping, Willy was still in business, and Willow and Tara were coming out of the Magic Shop.   


Xander pulled up short and stared. He knew he ran the risk of bumping into his old friends by being assigned to Sunnydale, but he didn't expect to do it within an hour of being there!   


Willow, if anything, was more beautiful than Xander remembered. She seemed to glow as she chatted excitedly with Tara. Tara, too, looked far better than he recalled, and more confident. The two girls held hands and, for a moment, Xander felt envious. How long had it been since he had someone to hold hands with?   


They were almost upon Xander when they both abruptly stopped and stared right at him. Xander took a step back, blinking in shock. The girls couldn't be seeing him, he thought wildly. To his knowledge, he hadn't physically manifested. Only animals should be able to see him.   


"Do you see that, Tara?" Willow asked in a frightened whisper.   


"Y-yes," Tara stammered with a nod. She tugged on Willow's hand. "We sh-sh-should l-leave, quickly."   


"What is it?" Willow said, stepping closer to the other girl.   


"An aura of- of death."   


Xander watched as the girls hurried away from him, his heart pounding in his chest. He caught the words "Giles" and "new evil brewing" before the two were out of earshot.   


The brunette slumped against the mailbox he was standing by as his bones turned to liquid. Tara and Willow had seen him, or at least his aura. They were much more powerful than he remembered the two Wiccans to be, unless...   


Xander quickly pulled his notebook from the back pocket of his jeans and flipped it to the list he'd been given before leaving Death's domain. He slumped again, this time in relief, when he didn't see either girls' names on the list of those to be Collected. They were both simply two otherworld-sensitive young women who'd caught sight of him because he'd been gawking at them.   


Making a mental note to avoid those two, Xander straightened, tucked his notebook away, and continued on his tour of Sunnydale.   
  
  
  
  


**Part Two**    
  
  
  
  


"Human... human... human... recoriath... human... cunari..."   


Xander walked through the cemetery at a rapid clip, his head downcast, identifying the species on the dwindling list of names of those he was supposed to Collect. On any given day, the list ranged from one to twenty-five names and it was up to the Collector to make sure everyone was Collected before midnight.   


The sun has set about an hour before and the brunette headed straight for the cemeteries in search of the non-humans on his list. Earth was one of the few realms that had a large number of different sentient species. A Collector assigned to any area on Earth had to be knowledgeable of demons as well as humans, because anything living was fair game to Death.   


Xander had figured his stint in Sunnydale would include a large number of demons if Buffy was still alive and slaying. Hellmouths were usually the most boring places to work because of humans like Buffy and the high demon population. On a hellmouth, most of the time the demons killed the humans, demon hunters killed the demons, and a Collector stood around scratching his ass with his scythe.   


But a job was a job to Xander. He went where he was told, Collected those on his list before the mandated deadline, and tried to enjoy himself while doing so.   


"Okay. Demons first," Xander said to himself, his eyes on his list. "Most of the humans will be munched by vamps and dinnertime for them doesn't start for ano--"   


Collectors may be invisible to the naked eye unless they physically manifest themselves, but they weren't ghosts. If one of Death's apprentices bumped into, say, a human, that human felt it. After the fact, the humans felt chilled and the hair on the back of their necks rose as a result of the contact.   


Xander stumbled back a step after running smack-dab into someone because he hadn't been paying attention to where he was going. Then again, he hadn't expected anyone to be in a cemetery in Sunnydale after the sun had set. Unless, of course, that someone happened to  _live_  in the cemetery.   


Like the blue-eyed peroxide blond vampire staring right at Xander with a startled expression on his face.   


"Xander?" Spike whispered incredulously.   


Xander blinked in shock. Spike could see him?!? The brunette glanced down at himself, wondering if he'd materialized on accident. Spike shouldn't be able to see him otherwise.   


"There's no one there, you git," Spike said disgustedly, causing Xander's gaze to jump back to the vampire. Spike was still looking in Xander's direction, but wasn't focusing directly on him.   


Spike shoved his hands into his duster pockets, scowled, then continued on his way. "Xander's dead, remember?" he muttered to himself. "He died in your bloody arms..."   


~~~~~   


Blood. Blood everywhere.   


"Xander!"   


Pain. Searing, excruciating.   


A figure in black jeans and a black turtleneck, face in the shadows.   


"Hello, Alexander. My name is Death."   


Brad Pitt from that weepy chick flick?   


"Damn it, Xander!"   


Spike kneeling beside him.   


It hurts so bad.   


"I have a proposition for you, Alexander."   
  
  


Soft, warm, smells like old leather and cigarettes.   


"Stay with me, pet. The Slayer will stake me if you die."   


Ripping pain.   


Oh God, make it stop.   


"Yes or no, Alexander?"   


Lifted. Held close.   


Eyes as blue as a summer sky. Anger, annoyance.   


Fear?   


"We'll be at the hospital soon, Xander. Just hold on."   


So much pain.   


Please, no more.   


"Alexander?"   


Anything, anything, anything. "Yes."   


The pain stopped.   


Slow exhale. Blackness descending.   


"Shit! Xander, don't you da--"   


~~~~~   


Spike was long gone by the time Xander snapped back to the present. The brunette took a shaky breath and ran his hand through his dark hair.   


Xander hadn't thought about his own death for over 800 years, and what should have been a faint recollection was painted in vivid colors across his mind.   


He remembered how dark his blood had looked against the slightly tanned skin of his torso. The sky had been a royal blue in color, sprinkled with blinking white stars. Death had been wearing black, of course, and not a single strand of his sun-highlighted hair had been out of place. And Spike's eyes had been so very blue, with silvery starbursts around black pupils.   


Xander recalled how scared he'd been when he'd woken up in a coffin. He'd thought he'd been buried alive, and he'd screamed and clawed at the coffin lid until his voice had disappeared and his fingers bled. It didn't dawn on him that he would have suffocated long before his panic attack had he really been alive.   


Death had been the one to dig him out of the grave. Xander remembered his first thought upon seeing the Master of Time: why was Brad Pitt rescuing him?   


It hadn't been until much later, after his mind had wrapped around the fact that he was not dead, that he learned Brad Pitt wasn't the real Brad Pitt, but Death wearing Brad Pitt's face. Death himself was faceless, and therefore everyone saw him differently. Since Xander had thought of the movie _Meet Joe Black_  upon Death introducing himself, the Last Lover had appeared, to him, to resemble the actor.   


Xander had eventually learned how to give Death a different face; a more square-jawed, rugged face. It had unnerved the brunette to have a Brad Pitt look-a-like for a teacher and lover. Now Death was an individual who looked like no one but himself, and Xander had no problems in serving him.   


Xander rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the notepad in his hand. Enough reminiscing, he thought, stubbornly shoving the memories of his death away. He had a deadline to meet and nine more names to cross off his list.   


Instead of continuing on in the direction he'd been heading, he turned on his heel and started back the way he'd come. And, subsequently, the same way Spike had gone.   


*****   


A short while later, a broad smile crossed Xander's lips. Buffy Summers was alive and well and kicking the crap out of a cunari demon.   


Xander circled around the Slayer and her opponent, observing their fight. Pride swelled in his chest; he'd forgotten how powerful Buffy was, how well she combined skill and improvisation in her fights. She was a wonder to watch, all that lethal force compacted into a tiny, feminine body.   


And it looked as though he wasn't the only one who liked to watch. Xander's proud smile changed to an amused smirk when he found Spike half-hidden behind a poplar tree.   


Spike didn't seem to notice Xander as he joined the vampire by the tree, much to Xander's relief. Chalk one up for hellmouthy events, the brunette thought as he materialized his scythe, planted the pole end in the ground, and rested his hands and chin on the top of the curved blade.   


The cunari, however, spotted Xander and the male demon's white skin became even whiter. Buffy took advantage of the long-limbed humaniod's distraction by pummeling him.   


"Oi, you nonce," Spike growled from beside Xander. "Concentrate. You can take the soddin' Slayer as long as you concentrate."   


Xander tisked, turning his head and resting his cheek on top of his hands. "Shame on you, Spike, for rooting for the bad guys."   


"You expected differently?" Spike commented offhandedly.   


Xander froze. Spike had heard him. Holy crud, Spike had  _heard him!!_    


A shocked Spike slowly turned to face Xander. Blue eyes were wide as saucers -- a very odd look for a supposedly tough-as-nails vampire -- as they focused directly on the brunette.   


Things went a bit wacky after that. Spike yelped in a very loud, unmanly fashion and backpeddled away from Xander, right towards the fighting duo. Buffy spun to face the unexpected possible threat, giving the cunari the opportunity to lunge forward and wrap his strong hands around her neck. He lifted her off the ground and shook her like a rag doll with little trouble.   


Buffy tried to swing her legs back to kick the cunari, but his long-limbs gave him a distinct advantage. She tried to go over the top of her head with the same results. Her face began to turn colors from the lack of oxygen.   


Xander cursed, uprooted his scythe, and sprinted forward. Spike put up his hands defensively when Xander came towards him, and back-stepped quickly. He promptly tripped over a headstone and went crashing to the ground.   


Xander leapt neatly over the headstone and prone blond vampire. He landed lightly on his feet in front of the cunari and Buffy.   


"You will not take me!" the cunari roared in his native language. The demon glared triumphantly at Xander as he shook the dangling Slayer in his grip. "I have challenged Death and won!"   


"Neaa, wrong. Sorry, buddy," Xander said in Cunarian, complete with buzzer sound-effect. "You lose. But you get this lovely parting gift for playing."   


From a standstill, Xander sprang into the air and sommersaulted over both Buffy and the cunari. He landed behind the demon, spun around and sliced through the cunari's neck with the scythe.   


The blade cut through the white flesh like a knife through hot butter; however, the demon's head did not fall off, nor was there a mark on his neck. The otherworldly weapon didn't exist on the physical plane, but worked none-the-less.   


The cunari lost his hold on Buffy as death began to claim him. Buffy dropped to her knees, breathing harshly, but she was up again in an instant. She had a broken shard from a headstone in her hand and with a vicious jab the jagged stone was imbedded in the demon's throat.   


Xander stood with his feet planted shoulder-width apart, one hand on his hip, the other holding the scythe, and watched as the cunari toppled to the ground. Wind whipped through the cemetery -- a direct result of Xander's temper -- and ruffled the brunette's shaggy hair. An angry frown marred his brow as he stared at the fallen demon, waiting for him to die.   


"Spike, you idiot! You almost got me killed!" Buffy exclaimed in rough voice, capturing Xander's attention.   


The Dark Cavalier raised his eyes and met Spike's part-amazed, part-terrified stare. A slow, almost evil smile curved Xander's lips. He released the scythe and it fell towards the ground. It disappeared before it hit.   


The cunari went limp as his final breath left his body. Xander briefly glanced at the demon, then stuck his hands in his pockets, nodded a polite goodbye to the vampire and sauntered away.   
  
  
  
  


**Part Three**    


  


"I'm telling you I saw him!" Spike exclaimed, his irritation evident. He resumed pacing in Giles's living room, a deep furrow between his brows. "He had on black denims and a white tee, and had a...," he gestured helplessly, "...long staff with a curved blade at the end."   


"A hockey stick?" Riley suggested.   


Spike glared at him. "No, not a hockey stick, you overgrown spud."   


"He's just trying to save his own butt, Giles," Buffy said, tapping a sharpened stake against her leg.   


"And just who did you think saved yours, Slayer?" Spike sneered. "You were as good as dead until Xander came to your rescue."   


"Xander's the one who's dead, Spike," Buffy stated angrily. "D-e-a-d, dead. As in, no longer around to rescue me, or tell bad jokes, or keep us fed, or bolster our spirits--"   


"Oh!" Willow interrupted, turning on the couch to look at Giles, who was standing by the kitchen counter. "Spirits! Maybe Spike saw Xander's spirit."   


"Perhaps," Giles agreed. He tapped the stem of his glasses against his lower lip. "But why now? Most spirits or- or ghosts will start haunting almost immediately after their mortal death."   


Spike shook his head. "He wasn't a ghost. He was solid enough when he ran into me the first time. Plus, he killed that demon Buffy was fighting."   


"I killed the demon I was fighting," Buffy corrected. She turned to Giles. "See, he's lying. Let me stake him. I promise I'll clean up the dust myself."   


"Slayer, you were hanging three feet off the bloody ground, being choked to death," Spike told her. "Did you think the demon simply decided to let you go?"   


"I... uh...," Buffy stuck her chin out stubbornly, "...it got a cramp. A hand cramp. Whitey had no choice but to release me."   


"You wish," Spike snorted. "Xander used that blade-on-a-stick he had on the demon and saved your bony ass."   


"How do you know if her butt is bony or not?" Riley said, folding his arms over his chest.   


"Can we please not talk about my butt and get on with staking Spike?" Buffy said with irritation.   


"What if it really was Xander, Buffy?" Willow spoke up again, hope etched on her face. "What if he's come back to- to rescue Buffy and... and... say 'hi' and stuff?"   


"Tell me, Spike," Giles began, sliding his glasses back on. "The area in which Buffy was fighting, was that the place where Xander... er, passed on?"   


"No," Spike shook his head, "wrong cemetery. He was killed out in Westbrook."   


"Hmm." Giles walked over to his bookshelf and removed a slim red volume. "And you say he was wearing a white tee-shirt and black trousers and not the clothing he was k- k- killed in or- or his funeral garb?"   


"Yeah."   


"Do ghosts change clothes?" Willow asked.   


"Not that I know of," Giles replied as he paged through the book. "Which leads me to believe Spike may be telling the truth."   


Spike shot a triumphant smirk at Buffy. Buffy scowled and stalked over to Giles. "Giles, this is  _Spike_. Scheming, conniving, evil--"   


"Slayer, stop," Spike said. "You're making me blush."   


"--vampire who hates us," Buffy continued with a deadly glare at the vampire. "This is just some sort of trick to hurt us."   


"Possibly," Giles contended. "But what does he have to gain? Xander has been gone for well over a year now and all of us have learned to cope without him in our lives. Plus, Spike knows we are skeptical of anything he tells us and therefore he's less likely to try and pull the wool over our eyes."   


"Fine," Buffy huffed. "Looks like you get to survive another night, Spike."   


"How gracious of you," Spike said sarcastically.   


"What I want to know is: why does Spike care if he saw Xander or not?" Riley said, looking over at Spike. "Like Giles said, you have nothing to gain."   


"Maybe I don't like seeing gits who're supposed to be dead rescuing the Slayer," Spike said, walking to the door. "It ruins the pleasure of seeing Buffy get her brains smashed in."   


The closing of Giles's front door thankfully cut off any reply, but Spike didn't immediately leave. The blond vampire instead took his time lighting up his eighth cigarette in an hour -- going to have to get me another pack, he thought -- and let the familiar action soothe his frazzled nerves.   


And Spike's nerves  _were_  frazzled. Not many things disturbed him -- after all, he was a vampire. But seeing Xander plain as night in the cemetery, fighting like a Slayer with a cock, had truly spooked him.   


Xander was dead. Spike had seen him get sliced almost in two by a Gondeck, and the kid had died before the vampire had even carried him out of Westbrook Cemetery. Spike had been at the funeral, lurking in the shadows, and had seen the coffin lowered into the ground. He'd even had a drink for Xander, toasting the Slayerette's bravery, sharp tongue, and the tight ass that had been hidden under all those baggy clothes.   


Tonight, however, a walking, talking, leaping, flipping, way-too-good-looking-for-a-dead-guy Xander Harris had been in Restfield Cemetery.   


Spike glanced back through the window into Giles's house and saw the Little Rascals already busy at work, paging through books, and the redhead plugging away on her computer. It was a sight that both calmed and unnerved him. How many of his plans had been thwarted by those very actions?   


With a shake of his head, Spike took a pull on his cigarette and started off towards town. He planned to do a bit of information gathering of his own... if he could get anyone to talk to him. He was still, after almost two years, on a majority of the demons' shit-lists because his need for violence could only be satisfied by pounding his fellow demons, all due to the effin' chip in his skull.   


Maybe Willy would have some idea about Xander's Duncan MacCleod imitation, Spike thought speculatively. The slick bartender had his finger in everybody's pots.   


Spike dipped a hand into his duster pocket and pulled out a few crumpled dollar bills. Damn. There was no way Willy would give up any information for three dollars and change. Three  _hundred_ , yes. Three singles, not a chance.   


"Bugger," Spike cursed to himself, shoving the money back into his pocket. He felt the familiar band of anger and misery tightening around his chest. Hell, how he hated the defunct Initiative and what they did to him. He hated them more than he hated Buffy or even his asswipe sire. And the sodding Initiative didn't even exist anymore, which meant his hatred was targeted at a non-fightable phantom.   


Spike's brows knitted together as an idea flitted through his mind. Was it possible that Xander was a phantom? He'd heard somewhere that Cordelia had a phantom roommate. And didn't she at one time date Xander? Spike had seen her at the funeral blubbering on the shoulder of some tall, wirey bloke. Angel had been sitting in the open door of the car, which had been parked in the shade during the afternoon funeral, sadness etched on his normally stoic features. The nonce; it wasn't as if he'd even liked Xander.   


"Wait a minute," Spike said out loud, coming to a halt. " _I_  didn't even like Xander." So why the hell did he care if the boy popped up in the cemetery looking very much alive?   


"I don't," the blond vampire answered himself. He looked up at the dark sky and addressed it as if Xander resided there. "You hear that, Xander? I don't bloody care what your deal is, so go bother someone else."   


Spike heard a pair of giggles behind him and he quickly turned. Two teenage girls were laughing at him behind their hands as they passed him.   


Feeling incredibly stupid, Spike scowled at the girls' backs, spun on his heel and stalked off. If that didn't take the piss; even after death the Slayer's cronies managed to make a fool of him.   


Back at his crypt, Spike threw himself down into the stuffing-impaired chair he'd scavenged from the garbage dump. Another cigarette found its way to his lips and he puffed angrily on it.   


One day, he swore to himself, he was going to bring Death to Sunnydale. And then this town would burn.   
  
  
  
  


**Part Four**    
  
  
  
  


Xander crossed the neatly trimmed lawn behind the sprawling two-storey mansion, nodding a greeting to the gardener pruning the outside of a lavish, ever-changing maze. The maze was a game of Death's which Xander always won, and it was a constant source of amusement for Xander to see Death's frustration each time he mastered a new maze. The brunette never told -- and would never tell -- the Game Master that the gardener always created a trail of pink blooms on the tall hedges that directed the way through the maze.   


"Hi, Binky," Xander greeted, walking up to a muscular white steed tethered to one of the posts in the stable. The Dark Cavalier rubbed the horse's nose between his two intelligent blue eyes. "Have you seen the old timer?"   


Binky snorted softly and nudged Xander's shoulder so he turned. Xander smiled when he saw Death trotting into sight on a chestnut mare. The mare was actually Xander's horse, though he hadn't ridden her in a while. Her name was Susie and, like Binky and everyone who was in Death's good graces, she was immortal. From what Xander could tell, she didn't seem to mind never aging nor suffering whatever ailments horses suffered from.   


"Xander!" Death climbed off the mare at the stable's entry and passed her reins to the waiting stable-hand.   


"Hello, Master," Xander returned, his smile broadening. It felt good to be home.   


Death was dressed in calf-high black riding boots, black jodhpurs and a soft black sweater, and his sun-kissed blond hair was slightly wind-blown. He strode quickly to Xander as he removed his black riding gloves, his hazel eyes gleaming with happiness. When he reached Xander, he snared the back of the brunette's hair and gave him a long, welcoming kiss.   


"Missed you, Boy," Death whispered against Xander's lips before stepping back. A half-second later, he thwapped Xander upside the head. "That's for not coming home for a year."   


"It's not like you've been here," Xander scowled, rubbing his head.   


Death sighed and started out of the stable towards the mansion at a brisk pace. Xander immediately fell into step beside him. "I know," the tall, thin man granted. "I've been on Hypacia starting a world war."   


"Again?" Xander shook his head. "Someone should really introduce the concept of birth control to them."   


"But then I wouldn't get to have any fun," Death said with a mock-pout.   


They entered the red-brick mansion through the French doors on the garden patio and walked into the pale yellow sitting room. Death dropped his black gloves on a glass end table before taking a seat on a brocaded sofa. He crossed one leg over the other, laid his arms along the back of the small couch, and gave Xander a pointed look.   


"Now, tell me what's got you in a tizzy," Death commanded.   


Xander ran his hand through his dark shaggy hair and blew out a quick puff of air. He forced himself to stand still instead of pacing like he wanted, and said, "I was seen."   


Death's blond brow arched. "By an adept?"   


"No," Xander began to pace anyway, "by a vampire."   


"A vampire," Death repeated.   


"And not just any vampire," Xander said, his long legs traversing the distance of the sitting room every few seconds. "A vampire that  _I_  know... knew... still know... argh!"   


"Calm down, Darkling," Death chided gently, "and start from the beginning."   


Xander stopped pacing abruptly, took another short breath and blew it out. He walked over to an ornate curio cabinet and peered through the crystal clear glass at the objects inside. "It's this new tour of duty," he began. "I know it's only fair that I take a turn on a hellmouth--"   


"A hellmouth?" Death sounded surprised. "You shouldn't be assigned to a hellmouth."   


"Well, someone thought I should be," Xander said. "I normally wouldn't have a problem with it, but the hellmouth I was assigned to is Sunnydale--"   


In the reflection of the curio cabinet, Xander saw Death shoot to his feet and interrupt with a loud, "WHAT?!"   


Xander turned around, confusion etched on his face. "What what?"   


Death's hazel eyes glinted angrily. "Someone is going to pay for this."   


"No," Xander shook his head quickly, "don't do whatever you're thinking of doing. I don't want special treatment. And, anyway, it's not that big of a deal."   


"'Not that big of a deal,'" Death repeated incredulously. "It most certainly  _is_  a big deal!" He stalked over to the writing desk in the corner beside the French doors, yanked out a sheet of parchment paper and a gold pen. "It is expressly forbidden for any Collector to be assigned to the area in which he spent his mortal life."   


"Maybe someone made a mistake," Xander said, trying to placate his Master. He didn't tell Death about his new tour in order to get his teacher to change it. In fact, that's the  _last_  thing he wanted to have happen. To have Death talk to the Collections Board about the assignment was like having his father talk to a bully's father about his son beating Xander up.   


"No," Death growled. "This was done purposely."   


Xander frowned. "What do you mean?"   


The blond man folded the page he'd written on in half and faced Xander. "Do you know why I chose you, Xander?"   


"Um, you needed a new boytoy?" Xander joked, shifting uncomfortably. He'd never really wanted to know the reason why Death had chosen him to become an apprentice. He was afraid that the answer would simply be because he was in the right place at the right time.   


"No, it wasn't that, my Dark Cavalier," Death said, a tender smirk curving his lips. "It's because you were -- and still are -- a very special man."   


Joy unfurled in Xander's heart. How long had it been since someone said that to him? Since never? Still, he had to ask, "Why?"   


"I was there when you killed your best friend," Death replied. "Jesse, I believe was his name."   


The happiness blackened. "So?"   


"Do you realize how difficult it is for a normal, caring individual to kill someone they love?" Death said. "Yet you did it, because it was what had to be done."   


"And...?" Xander prompted unhappily, knowing there was more.   


"And afterward," Death continued. "You dealt with your feelings over your best friend's death expediently and efficiently. I had thought to myself: if he could do that with someone he'd obviously loved, imagine what he could do when faced with strangers?"   


Xander dropped his chin and stared at the tops of his battered black construction boots, his heart heavy. He knew that he was a little on the uncaring side when it came to Collecting, but he hadn't thought that he was that bad.   


"I knew then that you would make the perfect apprentice," Death went on, his pride obvious. "It was as if I had found another me."   


"Deathboy," Xander whispered to himself, the nickname taking on a whole new meaning.   


"That's why I am certain your assignment to Sunnydale was no accident," Death said, crossing the room to Xander. He tilted the brunette's chin and met Xander's eyes. "Be careful, Darkling, until I can fix this."   


"Why?" Xander asked, a sense of foreboding filling the air, sending a chill down his spine.   


Death eyes darkened as he replied ominously, "Because I'm afraid someone may wish to see you fail."   


~*~*~*~*~

 _The Past_    
  
  
  
  


Xander's knee bounced at a pace Thumper would envy, and he tapped his fingers on the scarred desk. The small classroom where the first round of the Master Controller Exam was taking place was filling up with students, none of whom Xander recognized. Then again, this was the first time he'd ever been at the Academy, so that wasn't surprising.   


"Okay, I'm officially nervouser than hell," Xander said in the general direction of the student seated beside him. "You?"   


The raven-haired, gaunt man shot an annoyed glare at Xander before looking forward again. "'Nervouser' is not a word," he stated haughtily.   


Xander blinked in surprise at the rudeness. "Um..."   


"Don't mind Anthony," the student on the other side of Xander said. "He's got a stick up his ass the size of an oak tree."   


"It is better than having the brain the size of an acorn," Anthony sniffed.   


The rotund twenty-something seated to Xander's left rolled his slate grey eyes. "Hi. Mr. Personality there is Anthony Hodgkins," he said, gesturing to Anthony with his chin. "And I'm Samuel Scrollock."   


"Xander Harris," Xander returned the greeting.   


"Death's number one apprentice." Samuel half-smiled. "Everyone knows who you are."   


"And no one understands why you are here," Anthony continued rudely.   


Xander frowned. "I'm here to take the MCE."   


"Which you will undoubtably attain perfect scores on," Anthony said. "Even if you do not deserve them."   


"What do you mean?" Xander asked, his eyes narrowing at the implied insult.   


Anthony snorted indelicately and gave the brunette a pointed look. "Do you honestly believe the Proctors will fail Death's Boy?"   


"Anthony, quit it," Samuel said with a glare. Anthony sneered and faced front again.   


"Hey, I'm going to pass the MCE on my own, thank you very much," Xander stated.   


"Ignore him," Samuel told Xander. "He's just jealous of you."   


"Me?" Xander's eyes widened. "Why the heck would anyone be jealous of me?"   


"Because you're Death's favorite," Samuel confided. "Hell, I'm envious, too. So is the rest of the class."   


Xander shook his head disbelievingly. Since apprentices didn't need sleep, he'd spent the last hundred years studying all day and night, save for an hour of free time each day. He'd had to learn the languages of every creature of every realm and be able to speak, read, write and understand each fluently. He'd had to study magicks and science and how to utilize them both. He'd had to memorize the side effects that came with being an apprentice, including how adepts and animals could see him and how his anger could influence the elements. He'd had to learn to fight expertly with both a scythe and hand-to-hand. He'd had to obey his Master's every whim, be it physical, mental, or sexual.   


"You guys are nuts," Xander finally said. "I'd give anything to have trained here at the Academy and not with Death."   


"Somehow I doubt that," Anthony said.   


Xander shot him a withered glare. "If I'd have trained here, I would have taken the MCE over eighty years ago instead of now."   


"Eighty years of additional study?" Samuel gaped. "Wow."   


"Yeah. Woo-hoo," Xander said sarcastically.   


Samuel shook off his amazement and leaned closer to Xander. "Maybe at the break we can swap stories," he suggested. "We'll tell you about Academy life and you tell us about tutoring with Death."   


"I don't know," Xander hedged, wondering if he could talk about his apprentice education without going into the naked aspects of his student-teacher relationship with Death.   


"Oh, please do us the honor of sharing. After all, your studies were 'exceedingly hard,'" Anthony said snidely, complete with finger quotes.   


"Fine," Xander said sharply, his temper flaring at the unmitigated nerve of the raven-haired man. "At the break we'll share."   


"I do so look forward to it," Anthony drolled.   


"I do, too," Samuel said enthusiastically.   


"Can't wait." Xander slouched down further in his seat as the Proctor rapped on the podium at the front of the room and he muttered sarcastically to himself, "It'll be such fun."   
  
  


~*~*~*~*~*   
  
  


Xander was lying on his double bed, his feet propped up on the headboard, tossing a fuzzy green ball repeatedly into the air. He'd retreated to his spartan bedroom -- which only had a bed, a closet and a window -- after his talk with Death, wanting to be alone for awhile.   


"Deathboy," Xander said out loud, then laughed humorously. It sounded like an arch-villain's name from a comic book. Apathetic arch-villain.   


The nickname had never really bothered him until now. He'd been called worse, especially by Anthony Hodgkins, the acerbic twit. Anyway, most of the other Collectors who called him Deathboy were using it in the sexual connotation and not as in Son of Death.   


Not that he was Death's son, because, eew, incest. Xander was more like a clone of Death, someone who was in no way related to the Master of Time but had the same views about everything.   


"No, that's not true," Xander told the green fuzzy ball. The ball silently disagreed with him, so he tossed it over the edge of the bed.   


Sliding his hands behind his head, the brunette stared morosely at the white ceiling. Even inanimate objects knew he was fooling himself. What Death had told him was true: he was the perfect apprentice. He had no qualms over Collecting the most innocent of lives in the most horrid of ways. He'd helped start wars, spread plagues, induced famines, and stood idly by during rapes and murders. He'd Collected children who'd died from neglect, negatively influenced those on the verge of suicide, and scared a few into Death's Final Embrace on many occasions.   


It was the job, Xander's rational side piped. He didn't make the lists of those whose Time it was, he was simply the Collector.   


Then why did he feel like crap?   


Xander shut his eyes and sighed. Well, at least he knew the reason why Spike could see him. It seemed that a tie formed between someone about to be Collected and the last individual to come into contact with them, sort of like a last ditch effort on the mortal's behalf to keep a hold on life.   


"Lucky me," he murmured. Because of that link, his current tour of duty was going to be a pain in the ass. He sighed again. Why couldn't he have died in Miss America's arms instead of Spike's?   


Xander heard the rapid flap of wings from a bird coming to perch and he opened his eyes. At the single window beside the bed he saw a homing pigeon pacing along the windowsill.   


"Hey, Rusty," the brunette greeted with little enthusiasm as he rose from the bed. Every Collector had their own personal homing pigeon -- immortal, of course -- that was used to deliver the daily lists.   


Xander removed the small rolled up scroll tied to Rusty's leg. "Thanks," he said to the bird. The bird cooed and left.   


Pulling his notebook and pen from his pocket, Xander returned to the bed to recopy the list. In the closet, he had a box full of used notebooks each filled with the crossed-off names of those he'd Collected. Samuel, his closest and oldest friend, once said it was morbid, but to Xander it was a record of the past.   


Xander didn't recognize any of the dozen or so names and he felt a wave of relief sweep through him. It wasn't until right then that he realized how much he didn't want to have to be the one to Collect any of his old friends. He also suddenly understood why there was a rule against sending apprentices to the place where they'd spent their mortal lives and why Death got so ticked off. If Xander was undergoing a test of some sort involving his old friends...   


...he'd pass with flying colors.   


Xander swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat. It was true. If Buffy or Giles or -- please, no -- Willow appeared on that list, he'd do his job and end their mortal lives.   


He really was Deathboy.   


A light knock sounded on the door as it opened and Death stuck his head in the room. "Mind if I come in?"   


"What if I said yes?" Xander replied jokingly as he set his notebook aside. He quickly buried his thoughts and feelings and disgust with himself. He wasn't interested in an in-depth discussion about his freakish psyche.   


"I'd come in anyway," Death joked back. He entered the bedroom, shut the door and leaned against it with his arms crossed. "How are you feeling, Xander?"   


Xander frowned, instantly on edge. "What do you mean?"   


"You seemed a bit down after our chat earlier," Death said.   


"Nah, I'm fine," Xander lied, but he followed it up with the truth. "Just homesick ."   


The smile that spread across Death's face was almost blinding. He crossed to Xander, bent down and kissed him hard on the mouth.   


Death's hazel eyes were full of hunger when he focused on Xander. "Do you need to leave soon?"   


Xander grinned rakishly, wanting nothing more than to forget his troubles for awhile. He slid his arms around Death's neck and pulled the other man down onto the bed with him as he whispered desirously, "Not any time in the immediate future."   
  
  


**Part Five**    
  
  
  
  


 

Spike couldn't believe his eyes.   


 

It wasn't the fact that he could see supposed-to-be-dead Xander Harris casually leaning against an alley wall, with one foot propped behind him on the crumbling beige brick, paring his fingernails with a wicked-looking eight-inch knife. And it wasn't the fact that, further down the alley, a vampire was making a meal of a screaming coed.   


 

It was the fact that Xander wasn't doing anything to  _stop_  the vampire making a meal of the screaming coed less than a half-dozen feet from him.   


 

Spike stared incredulously at the lounging brunette. How could Xander not be White Knighting the damsel obviously in distress?, the vampire thought. Last night, Xander had saved Buffy, so why not this chit?   


 

Spike cautiously crept closer, hiding himself partially behind a telephone pole in order to watch the unbelievable events unfold.   
  
  


 

*****   
  
  


 

Xander wielded the knife in his hand with expertise and watched as another fingernail trimming fell to the ground. Down the alley, Sally Ann Markovitz continued to scream her annoying blond head off as what was evidently a fledgling vampire tried to munch on her. Xander pretty much ignored them both, although he wished the vampire would speed it up a bit. Sally Ann was only one of five humans left on the list to be Collected.   


 

Xander had shoved deep the fact that he was a cold bastard when it came to taking mortals' lives. Instead, he concentrated on puzzling out who wanted him to fail.   


 

At the top of his list was Anthony Hodgkins. They had been at each other's throats since they met, and Xander wouldn't be surprised if their continual rivalry had caused Xander to be assigned to the hellmouth.   


 

Anthony seemed to think that he was in competition with Xander. The raven-haired Collector had requested to take a  _second_  tour on Bavariash -- the realm of children -- to try and prove how much better he was than the Dark Cavalier, although Anthony never blatantly said that was the reason why.   


 

Xander would have to ask his closest friend, Samuel, what he thought. Samuel was still good friends with Anthony, despite Xander's antagonism with the other man, because Samuel had been Anthony's roommate for the twenty years of Academy training. Xander had a suspicion that the two shared more than just a room, but he never asked.   


 

A few other Collectors came to Xander's mind when considering who might have it against him. Jason Toddy, a muscular Maldivian with a chip on his shoulder the size of a Buick. He had lost to Xander each time the brunette participated in the hand-to-hand event of the Collectors Olympics. The Olympics were a series of games that occurred every fifty years to keep Collectors sharp and stave off the boredom that came with the constant repetition of the job.   


 

Glancy LaPorte, a dog-like Gremyanan, wasn't too fond of Xander, either. Glancy had lost a high-stakes poker bet to Xander and had had to shave the hair off of his entire body. He'd gone from looking like a sheepdog to a Chihuahua, an embarrassment that he'd not gotten over despite the number of years that had passed.   


 

Xander wasn't too concerned that whomever wanted him to fail would succeed -- he was the unfeeling Dark Cavalier, after all -- but it would be nice to know who it was that despised him that much. Collectors, on the whole, were a friendly bunch, sort of like a fraternity. Sure, some of them didn't get along as well as others did, but, normally, no one would set up another to fail.   


 

Although, if Xander remembered his history lessons correctly, two Collectors had once gotten into a huge fight that ended in bloodshed. Simply because apprentices of Death were immortal didn't mean they couldn't be hurt. The two Collectors Xander was thinking about had become so grievously injured during their fight with one another that they became immortal vegetables.   


 

The sound of Sally Ann's body hitting the pavement pulled Xander from his thoughts. He glanced down the alley and rolled his eyes. The male fledgling was crouched beside the corpse of the blond, digging through her purse.   


 

Xander pushed off the wall and sauntered towards the vampire. He crouched on the opposite side of the body, checked for the girl's aura to make sure she was dead, and then physically materialized.   


 

The fledge gasped and stared at Xander with eyes as round as saucers. Xander tapped the flat edge of the eight-inch knife against his chin and asked, "Looking for a tampon?"   


 

"Gahh!" The vampire dropped the purse and launched forward to tackle Xander, but the brunette was faster than him. Xander used his legs like a frog would and leapt over the vampire, landing on the other side of Sally Ann without his boots making a sound on the pavement.   


 

Xander glanced over his shoulder at the vampire sprawled on the ground. He chuckled softly. He knew he couldn't dust the vampire -- Emilio Rodriguez's mortal demon wasn't on the list -- but that didn't mean he couldn't play. Sometimes it was fun to mess with others' minds.   


 

Emilio scrambled to his feet and faced Xander. Xander was still in a crouch as he'd landed, knife in one hand, his back to the vampire and the corpse, looking over his shoulder at Emilio.   


 

The Dark Cavalier batted his eyelashes and kissed the air. Emilio growled and jumped towards Xander, but again the brunette was too fast. Xander leapt straight in the air, using a bit of magick to propel him higher, and he landed in a crouch on the railing of a rusted fire escape.   


 

He spun as he straightened, balancing with ease on the thin rail. Emilio stared up at Xander with fear twisting his already twisted features.   


 

"Gahh!" the vampire cried out again. Then he bolted from the alley at full speed.   


 

Xander's laugh bounced off the beige brick alley walls. He stepped forward, dropped to the ground and landed lightly on his feet. He began tossing the knife in the air, catching it by its hilt on each decent, as he dematerialized.   


 

"Damn, that felt good," he commented to himself as he stepped over the corpse of Sally Ann Markovitz on his way out of the alley.   


 

The knife blade was illuminated by the street light, gleaming in the night with each end-over-end toss into the air. Xander started to cross the empty street when a flash of white-blond caught his eye.   


 

Spike stiffened when Xander stopped walking and seemed to look right at him. He thought he was hidden pretty well in the shadows behind the telephone pole. He held his metaphorical breath, willing the oddity that resembled Xander -- but could no way in hell be the whelp -- to move on.   


 

"Bloody hell!" Spike exclaimed, jumping back when the knife the brunette had been playing with suddenly imbedded itself into the telephone pole. He pressed a hand over his heart and swore he could feel it pounding.   


 

A hand curled around the black hilt of the knife and Spike started in surprise again. "Gahh!" he exclaimed, jumping a second time. He hadn't seen or heard Xander move.   


 

"What is it with vampires and 'gahh' tonight?" Xander said, pulling the blade free. He turned to Spike and leaned one shoulder against the thick wooden pole. "Is it some kind of vampire code for 'oh shit, I just crapped my shorts?'"   


 

Spike's ridges appeared and his fangs elongated as he dropped into a fighting stance. "I don't know who the soddin' hell you are, but you're not gettin' me without losing a limb or three."   


 

One of Xander's brows arched skyward. "What are you talking about, Spike?"   


 

"Come on!" Spike bounced slightly on his toes. "Let's see how you are against a Master Vampire!"   


 

"You want me to fight you?" Xander snorted.   


 

"Oi! Stop your laughin' and put 'em up!"   


 

Xander shook his head and started to lightly flip the knife in his hand. "Spike, I'm not going to fight you."   


 

Spike focused on the knife being deftly caught over and over. Knives couldn't kill him, but they hurt like a bugger, especially imbedded in his chest or throat. He had to knock the eight-inch blade out of the brunette's hand in order to even up the fight.   


 

"Sheesh, Spike, it's just a knife," Xander said with an exasperated sigh. On the next toss, the knife abruptly disappeared.   


 

Spike blinked. The knife had disappeared! Just like the stick-thingy the previous night!   


 

The blond vampire looked at Xander's smirking face and took a step backwards. If this Xander-creature knew magick, Spike was up a creek sans paddle. He couldn't fight magick, and he liked his body parts exactly where they were. "Er, listen here, you... uh... you Xander-shaped thing," he began. "What do you want? Money?"   


 

Xander frowned. Xander-shaped thing? What the heck was Spike-- ah. Duh. "Spike, it's really me. Xander Harris."   


 

"Whatever you say." Spike calculated the distance between himself, Xander and the nearest escape route. The thing wouldn't try to skin him in public. Would it?   


 

"You know what, I was right about you all along," Xander said, pushing off the telephone pole. "You're not an evil, scary vampire with biting problems. You're a chipped Chicken Little."   


 

Spike gaped as Xander strolled away. "I am not a little chicken!" he exclaimed, hurrying after the brunette.   


 

"That's Chicken Little," Xander corrected. He gestured towards the night sky. "You know: 'The sky is falling! The sky is falling!'"   


 

Spike looked up and frowned. "It is not falling."   


 

Xander shook his head and whistled. "Boy, you're sorry. Has your chip been leaking battery acid and rotting your brain?"   


 

Spike narrowed his eyes. "How do you know about my chip?"   


 

"Duh! Spike, it's me. Xander. I think I already covered that," Xander said exasperatedly.   


 

"Xander's dead," Spike enunciated slowly.   


 

"Can't argue with you there," Xander said with a shrug.   


 

Spike grabbed Xander's arm and pulled him to a stop. Then, Spike punched him.   


 

Xander glared at Spike as he rotated his jaw. "What'd you do that for?"   


 

"What you should be asking yourself is:," Spike punched him again, "is he going to do it again?"   


 

"Hey!" Xander caught Spike's fist with his hand on the vampire's rapid follow-up punch. "Quit it, you undead moron!"   


 

"No," Spike said conversationally as he kicked Xander.   


 

Xander released Spike's fist and hopped back on one leg, rubbing the other now-bruised calf. "Ow!"   


 

"I am not Chicken Tiny!" Spike exclaimed like a battle cry. He threw himself at Xander, but the brunette side-stepped, caught the back of Spike's duster and propelled him across the street. The vampire hit a parked car with a crunch of glass and fell to the street.   


 

"It's Chicken Little, bird-droppings for brains!" Xander yelled.   


 

Spike climbed to his feet, shook the glass out of his hair, and put up his fists. "You're gonna pay for that one."   


 

Xander threw his hands in the air. " _What_  is with you?! Is my being a dead man walking such a bad thing?!"   


 

"In a word: yes!" Spike darted across the street and slid into Xander like a baseball player sliding home.   


 

Xander was surprised and crashed down on top of the vampire. Spike's knee came up between Xander's legs and the world went hazy for a brief second. Then, there was only pain.   


 

"You bastard," Xander whimpered, rolling off of Spike. He cupped his genitals and curled into a ball. "You dirty shit."   


 

Spike rose to his feet and stood over the prone brunette. "I don't give a flying rat's arse what you are, but you'd best take off Xander's face before I rip it off you."   


 

Xander heard the growl on a subsonic level and he pried open his eyes. He didn't look up at Spike, however.   


 

Three blocks away and closing rapidly, a wolf-like beast was coming right for them. The beast was dark-skinned, hairless, with pointed ears and a thick muzzle. Its large paws, with unextended sharp claws, silently ate up the distance like nothing. Its glowing red eyes were focused on Xander and the brunette could see its four-inch canines dripping with saliva.   


 

A Choata. A death-hunter.   


 

"Move!" Xander exclaimed, scrambling to his feet.   


 

Spike was set to strike again, but Xander took off running across the street. The vampire frowned. Did he just win?   


 

Xander glanced behind him and saw that Spike was still standing in the middle of the street. The Choata hadn't veered off to chase after the brunette. It was still heading straight for Spike.   


 

And Spike hadn't a clue.   


 

"Spike!" Xander yelled, changing coarse mid-stride. He lost precious time by trying to gain purchase on the rock-strewn pavement.   


 

Spike put up his hands again in a defensive position. "Guess I didn't win."   


 

The Choata was half a block away and coming fast. Its black nostrils flared and it growled again.   


 

Spike heard a very low sound, like the rumble of a fright train at a distance. He glanced over his shoulder and froze as fear took on a new meaning.   


 

Xander practically plowed into Spike as he came to a quick stop in front of the vampire. Spike didn't even flinch; he was petrified by the Choata.   


 

Xander narrowed his eyes at the death-hunter, latched onto Spike's arm and started running again. He practically dragged the vampire the first several yards before Spike's feet got the idea of fleeing.   


 

An oak tree loomed up ahead, just past the sidewalk behind a waist-high wood fence. Its green leaves shook and fluttered down from the branches as Xander's anger caused the wind to whip.   


 

The Choata roared as it closed the distance to its prey. The otherworldly sound filled up the night with its deafening loudness.   


 

"Spike! Jump!" Xander shouted the order as they came upon the fence. He vaulted over the waist-high structure with ease, but lost hold of Spike's arm. The oak tree was three feet away.   


 

Spike stumbled, the tail of his duster caught on a nail sticking up from the fence. He shrugged out of the coat, his yellow eyes wild with fear. He could hear the hound behind him, almost on top of him.   


 

And Xander had vanished.   


 

Spike sucked in a harsh gulp of air and blood rushed in his ears. His arms came free of the coat and he spun to face the threat. He back-stepped quickly, sweat running down his temples. The hound was at the sidewalk.   


 

The bark of the tree scraped Spike's neck as he backed into it. His unlife flashed before his eyes.   


 

The hound snorted and made its final leap, its sharp claws extended.   


 

Spike squeezed his eyes shut.   


 

Two hands shot out, clamped onto Spike's shoulders and pulled him back into the tree.   


 

The Choata's claws sank deep into the oak, its prey having vanished. The huge hound scraped at the bark, sniffed around the tree, then sat on its haunches and let out a long eerie howl.   


 

Elsewhere, there was an echoing howl.   
  
  
  
  


 

 **Part Six**    
  
  
  
  


 

Xander let loose a string of curses that came close to making Spike blush.   


 

They were standing in what looked to be a never-ending hallway lined with matching doors. Spike watched with fear still pumping through his veins as Xander slammed his fist into the short wall between two of the doors. The plaster gave under Xander's hit, leaving long cracks up and down the wall.   


 

Out of the corner of his eye, Spike could see others who were walking in the hallway had stopped to observe Xander's rant. Some were human, some were most definitely not.   


 

Xander must have seen them, too, because his gaze whipped back and forth and he snarled, "Enjoying the show?"   


 

And suddenly everyone in the hall had someplace else to be.   


 

Xander turned around, leaned back against the dented wall, closed his eyes and rapped the back of his head against the cracked surface three times. He reopened his eyes and focused on Spike. "You okay?"   


 

"What," Spike squeaked. Swallowed. Tried again. "What was that thing?"   


 

"A Choata," Xander replied, his fists clenching. "A goddamned fucking death-hunter."   


 

Spike pressed his lips together. Shifted. Hoped he wasn't feeling what he thought he was feeling in his trousers. "So... right."   


 

"Come on," Xander said, abruptly grabbing Spike's wrist and starting up the hallway at a fast walk.   


 

Spike let himself be dragged along, hoping that he hadn't gone from the frying pan into the fire. Not that he wasn't happy he hadn't become kibble. But now that he was coming down from his fear-induced adrenaline high -- and he wouldn't lie, he had been scared shitless -- he was able to recognize the fact that he most certainly wasn't in Kansas anymore.   


 

The hall of doors seemed like it went on forever, and Spike was starting to think they were going around in circles when all of a sudden they were standing at an archway that led outside to a sunny day. A short distance away, across a grassy stretch of land, was a sprawling red brick mansion, with large windows and ivy growing up the walls.   


 

Spike yanked his wrist from Xander's grasp when the brunette didn't stop. "What are you, loony?" he said, speaking for the first time since they started walking. He gestured to the bright outside from the shadows of the archway. "I didn't survive being eaten by an oversized mongrel to be fried by the effin' sun."   


 

Xander looked outside and frowned. "Oh."   


 

"Yeah, oh," Spike grumbled, rubbing his wrist where Xander had held it. Right strong grip the boy had.   


 

"Not a problem," Xander said. He put one fist over the other in front of his body, as if he were holding a golf club. Then, slowly, he pulled his fists apart as he raised his arms.   


 

Spike's jaw dropped when, out of nowhere, an extremely large black umbrella appeared in Xander's hands. The brunette's hand movements opened the umbrella as it materialized. It was big enough to shade an elephant from the sun.   


 

"There," Xander said, holding it above them both. "Now, let's go."   


 

Spike could only nod and follow. He reminded himself to pitch the blood bags he had at home in the rubbish when he got back from his trip down the rabbit hole.   


 

The double-wide golden oak doors of the mansion opened easily under Xander's hand. The umbrella vanished as they crossed the threshold -- Spike absently noted he hadn't needed to be invited in -- and entered a massive white tiled foyer.   


 

"MASTER!" Xander's voice reverberated off the gilded decor and caused the teardrop crystals on the giant chandelier to shake. "MASTER!!!"   


 

"There's no need to shout like a common street hustler, Xander."   


 

Spike's gaze traveled up a navy blue carpeted curving staircase to a man slowly descending them. He was dressed entirely in black -- a man after Spike's own taste -- but, surprisingly, considering the chandelier, the man's head was bathed in shadows.   


 

"Sorry," Xander apologized, heading to meet the man at the bottom of the stairs. "But I'm pissed off to the billionth power."   


 

Xander went to continue on, but the man interrupted him. "Darling Boy, I know you want to share, but that's no reason to be rude," he said. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"   


 

"Who?" The man pointed and Xander glanced back at Spike. "Oh. Sorry. Master, Spike. Spike, meet Death," Xander introduced quickly, then turned his attention back to Death. "Now, we have a serious problem."   


 

"Spike?" Death said, ignoring the rest of Xander's statement. "As in, your mortal bondmate Spike?"   


 

Xander blew a sharp breath of air upwards, ruffling the hair hanging over his eyes. "Yes, that Spike."   


 

Death -- cool name, Spike thought -- bypassed Xander and stopped in front of him. Spike looked up at the tall, thin man and frowned. He still couldn't make out the man's features.   


 

Death moved again, circling the vampire. "He's cute."   


 

Xander sent a disbelieving snort in the pair's direction. "He's not...," he trailed off as he looked Spike up and down. "Okay, so he is. But who cares--"   


 

"Oi, I might care," Spike interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest. He wished he still had his duster. He was used to being the appraiser, not the piece of meat on display. "And stop looking at me like that."   


 

"He's feisty, too," Death said, coming around the vampire. "Mind if I play with him?"   


 

"Now see here, you faceless nonce," Spike growled, poking the black-clad man in the chest. "If anyone's gonna be playing with me it's me." Wait, that didn't sound right.   


 

Xander made a noise between a sigh and a growl. "No one is going to play with Spike until we deal with the Choata!"   


 

"A Choata," Death repeated, half-turning to Xander. "Are you certain?"   


 

"As certain as your boner," Xander replied.   


 

Spike gaze immediately dropped to Death's crotch. Boner. Right. He took a step back out of reach.   


 

"Xander, don't be crass," Death scolded. "And your mortal bondmate still cannot see my features. If you'd please be so kind as to fix that problem."   


 

Xander's brows arched. "That's weird," he paused, then shrugged, "but easily fixed."   


 

The brunette traced an invisible symbol in the air with one finger and ended pointing at Spike. "See what I see," he said in a firm voice.   


 

Spike blinked rapidly as his vision blurred. When his focus cleared, he found Death standing directly in front of him, an amused expression on the face Spike could now see.   


 

"Better?" Death asked.   


 

"Uh, yeah," Spike replied. "Thanks."   


 

Death nodded once before turning to Xander. "Tell me about the Choata."   


 

Xander began to sum up what happened. Spike felt a faint breeze on his arms and glanced behind him, wondering if the doors were still open. They were not.   


 

The breeze grew to a nippy speed as Xander gesticulated angrily as he spoke. Spike looked up when he heard tinkling and saw the teardrop crystals swinging and hitting each other. He dropped his gaze back to Xander at the same time a strong gust caused the peroxide blond's hair to ruffle, despite its gelled state.   


 

"My sweet Boy," Spike barely heard Death say over the noise from the chandelier. Death captured Xander's hands and held them still. "I think it's best if you head outdoors while I think on our new problem."   


 

Xander nodded and Death released his hands. He immediately strode past Spike and out the front door.   


 

The odd wind stopped the instant he was gone.   


 

"Ah, much better," Death commented. He clapped his hands together. "Well, shall we adjourn to the study?"   


 

Spike warily agreed and followed the other man to the study. The room was like a hundred other studies the vampire had seen over time. Painted in dark colors accented with rich woods, the study held a mini-bar in one corner, several leather chairs, an ornate cigar ashtray, and had the smell of wealth and power.   


 

Death walked right up to a plate glass window and looked outside. His expression was thoughtful. "How much have you seen?"   


 

"Of what?" Spike asked. Curiosity brought Spike close enough to the window to see outside without standing in the small patch of sunlight that entered the room. He could see Xander stalking across the lawn towards a double-high barn-like structure. "Xander?"   


 

"Other than the spell to see my features, have you witnessed anything unusual that Xander has done?" Death said.   


 

"I've seen him kill a demon like a pro, but not save some chit from a vampire's fangs," Spike found himself answering without hesitation.   


 

Outside, Xander stopped in front of the structure, bent his knees and leapt straight in the air. He landed on the sloped edge of the roof, turned around and sat with his legs dangling off the side. Spike shook his head in amazement. "And I've seen him do something like that, too."   


 

Death studied Spike for a moment. "You don't believe the Dark Cavalier and Xander Harris are one and the same."   


 

"Who?" Spike asked.   


 

Death gestured with his head towards the window. "That man that you see out there. You don't believe he is truly the one you know as Xander Harris."   


 

"Xander is dead," Spike said tonelessly, but his eyes were hard.   


 

"This is true," Death acquiesced. "But not in the way you define death."   


 

He crossed the room to the mini-bar, removed two glasses and a bottle of black amber whiskey. "The mortal Xander Harris is Gone," he continued. "Who you see out there is the immortal Xander. And you are his mortal bondmate."   


 

"Stop calling me that," Spike scowled. "I'm not mortal, and I'm not some ghost's bond-anything."   


 

Death returned to the window and handed a filled glass to Spike. "Ah-ah, my dear vampire, you are quite mortal; and you are, most certainly, the Dark Cavalier's bondmate."   


 

"And you are, most certainly, off your bloody rocker," Spike said, raising his glass in toast.   


 

The tall man laughed. "I like you."   


 

"Joy." Spike turned back to the window after tossing back his drink. Xander was strolling back towards the mansion at a lackadaisical pace.   


 

"How would you like to become immortal?"   


 

"Uh, vampire here," Spike reminded Death.   


 

"Anything that can die is considered mortal," Death said in return. "You, demon, are long-lived, but not immortal."   


 

"I'll pass," Spike said, setting his glass down on a small table beside the window.   


 

Death looked at him for a moment, then shrugged. "Your choice. Don't say I never offered."   


 

He picked up Spike's glass and returned to the mini-bar. Spike patted his pockets, searching for his smokes, and cursed softly. They were in his duster, which was in Sunnydale, probably being used as a doggie chew toy.   


 

Xander moseyed into the study a few minutes later, his hands in his pockets and a smile on his face. "Hey."   


 

"Feeling better, Darkling?" Death asked.   


 

"Much," Xander replied. "I'm going to head back. Is it okay if Spike stays?"   


 

"Of course," Death said with a nod.   


 

"Hello? In the room, people," Spike said. "I'm not staying here."   


 

Xander barely glanced at Spike. "Yes, you are." He returned his attention to Death. "I have four left."   


 

"What will you do about the Choata?" Death asked.   


 

"I am  _not_ ," Spike growled, stalking over to the brunette.   


 

Xander gave Spike a strange look, but continued to speak to Death. "I'm going to do an in-and-out. Car accident. The last four are close to the same age, high school girls, so I'm betting they're all at the Bronze. Shouldn't be too hard to get them together."   


 

"Did you hear me?" Spike said. "I'm not staying here."   


 

"Yes, you are," Xander repeated with a short, hard glare at the vampire. He side-stepped Spike and walked over to the mini-bar, addressing Death again. "What are  _you_  going to do about the Choata?"   


 

"Check the pens," Death replied. "If the keeper reports it escaped, then it's probably just a bad coincidence it turned up in Sunnydale."   


 

"And if it was stolen?"   


 

"Stop bloody ignoring me!" Spike exclaimed angrily. " _I'm not staying here!!_ "   


 

Xander held up a finger to Death. "Hold that thought."   


 

Death nodded, a smile playing on his mouth.   


 

Xander was in front of Spike in three long strides. He invaded the vampire's personal space, getting almost nose to nose with him. The brunette's voice was like sandpaper against concrete when he spoke.   


 

"I don't give a fuck what you want."   


 

That said, Xander took a single step back and turned to Death. "Go on."   


 

"Let me worry about the Choata," Death said. "You just do what you're best at."   


 

"Will do." Xander touched two fingers to his brow and saluted. "Laters."   


 

"Watch yourself," Death called to him as he sauntered towards the door.   


 

"Always."   


 

After he heard the front door close, Death poured himself another drink, picked it up, and headed out of the room. "You can close your mouth now, Spike."   


 

Spike's gaping mouth snapped shut.   
  
  
  
  


 

 **Part Seven**    
  
  


 

Spike sat cross-legged on Xander's bed, elbow on his thigh and his chin cupped in his hand, staring out the window. The room faced north, which meant Spike didn't need to worry about the sun coming through the window -- which was a good thing, since the sun didn't look like it would ever set.   


 

The vampire had been very surprised by the emptiness of Xander's room. He had expected it to be as rich and elegant as the rest of the mansion. When he'd commented about it to Death, who had escorted Spike to the room to wait for Xander, Death had explained that Xander cared little about anything.   


 

"Material things?" Spike had asked as he'd glanced around the bare room.   


 

"No," Death had corrected. "Anything."   


 

That response had puzzled Spike. The Xander Harris Spike remembered had lived in a basement cluttered with stuff. Comic books, baseball cards, empty liquor mini-bottles and other junk had been scattered about the basement during the short time Spike had lived with the brunette.   


 

Snooping through Xander's current domicile had only produced a green fuzzy ball, a set of dice, a deck of cards, a few articles of clothing, a trash can and a box. Spike had thought he'd hit paydirt when he'd found the box on a shelf in the closet. He'd eagerly taken it out and sat on the hardwood floor to look through it.   


 

That had been a couple hours ago, if Spike's internal clock was correct, and he still couldn't figure out what the contents of the box meant.   


 

The box had been filled with identical blue-covered notebooks. The ones nearer to the top had white pages, while the ones at the bottom were yellowed. Every page in every single one of the notebooks had a list of names with a single line through them and a notation beside each one. None of the names were the same. However, many of the notations were.   


 

In the trash can, Spike had found a handful of tiny scrolls. The scrolls, like the notebooks, held lists of names. It hadn't taken the blond vampire long to see that the names on the scrolls matched the names in the notebooks. What he hadn't been able to figure out was why.   


 

His temporary host hadn't been any help in answering that question. Death had dropped him in Xander's room and then disappeared. Spike hadn't ventured out of the bedroom to search for anyone because he didn't want to chance getting lost in the monstrous mansion and miss the boy's return. The sooner he reconnected with Xander, the sooner he'd be home, where the sun actually went down.   


 

"See anything interesting?"   


 

Spike started at the voice, his head whipping around to see Xander walk nonchalantly into the bedroom. The vampire hadn't heard Xander at all, until he spoke. Not even footsteps on the hardwood floors.   


 

"'Bout time you got back," Spike grumbled to cover the fact that he had been startled. "I've been sitting here for hours."   


 

"You sound like a nagging fishwife," Xander commented as he pulled his white tee-shirt over his head.   


 

"Sod off."   


 

The tee-shirt was balled and tossed towards the open closet door. Spike blinked several times at the muscular expanse of lightly tanned skin that was exposed. He didn't remember Xander looking like  _that_.   


 

The vampire watched the play of muscles as Xander propped each foot up on the edge of the bed to unlace his workboots. The brunette's biceps flexed and bulged with his movements.   


 

Spike felt something else bulging and he shifted on the bed. He couldn't believe he was getting aroused watching Xander. It was  _Xander,_  for chrissake. Spike really needed to go home.   


 

"So, mate, can I go now?" Spike said with a slight edge to his voice.   


 

"No," Xander replied simply as he toed off his unlaced boots.   


 

"And why the bloody hell--" Xander undid the fastenings of his jeans with a flick of his wrist and pushed them down. Spike's voice cracked on the last word. "--no-ot?"   


 

The brunette stepped out of his jeans and socks and bent to pick them up. Spike swallowed heavily and dug his nails into the bedding as his arousal grew. What the hell was wrong with him?   


 

"The Choata's still in Sunnydale, and you have my touch all over you," Xander answered. He straightened and walked over to the closet with his clothes.   


 

Spike stared. Aside from the broad shoulders, the slightly tapered waist and the luscious ass that tightened and flexed with every step, Xander had a tattoo between his shoulderblades. And it was mesmerizing.   


 

A black crow in flight was etched into Xander's skin. Solidly colored, the crow's wings stretched over Xander's shoulderblades, making it seem as though the bird was flapping its wings as the brunette moved. The crow's beak ended at the nape of Xander's neck, its tail feathers fanning slightly on Xander's middle back.   


 

"Touch?" Spike said faintly, not really paying attention to the conversation anymore.   


 

"Yeah," Xander dropped the clothes on top of the tee-shirt and turned to face Spike, "my touch. The Choata is a death-hunter and death -- meaning me -- touched you while we were fighting."   


 

There was a silver hoop at the tip of Xander's dick, Spike's brain informed him.   


 

Want sex now, Spike's body chimed in.   


 

"Strip," Xander said.   


 

Spike blinked. Blinked again. Thought he heard the material of his jeans begin to tear at his crotch. "Pardon?"   


 

"I said strip," Xander repeated as he started for the open door of the bedroom. He paused in the doorway and glanced at the still unmoving Spike. "You coming?"   


 

Hopefully soon, Spike thought as he scrambled off the bed and stripped in record time. Xander had turned his artfully adorned back to the vampire and had bent over to pick something up off the hall floor. Spike almost tripped over his clothes in his hurry to get to that round, muscular ass.   


 

"Huh," Xander said, straightening. He held a tiny dark blue ribbon between his fingers. "Wonder where this came from?"   


 

Spike pinched his very erect cock to stave off making a fool of himself as he stood slightly behind Xander. "A really small chit," he suggested.   


 

Xander glanced back at him, shrugged, and started down the hallway. He dropped the ribbon on a hall table as he passed it. "Maybe. Although I don't know anyone that little."   


 

The brunette entered another open door on the left partway down the hall, with Spike right behind him. Xander flipped on the lights and crossed the tiled floor to a set of switches on the pale blue wall.   


 

Spike gaped at the enormous sunken whirlpool tub that took up most of the room. It started to bubble invitingly.   


 

"Aahhh," Xander breathed happily as he lowered himself into the water. "Come on in, Spike. The water is hot and wonderful."   


 

Spike didn't have to be asked twice. He crossed the room, his hard length merrily bouncing with his quick steps, and dropped into the whirlpool tub. His body tingled as the water heated his cool skin.   


 

Xander's arms were outstretched along the rim of the tub, his head was tipped back and his eyes were closed. Spike took a seat beside the lounging brunette, not quite touching him but close enough.   


 

"I wonder if Death's found anything out about the Choata," Xander said, more to himself than to anyone.   


 

Spike replied anyway. "Don't know, pet. I haven't seen him since he dropped me in your room."   


 

Xander's eyes cracked open and he turned his head towards the vampire. His brow went up when he saw how close Spike was sitting. "Is there a reason you're almost on top of me?"   


 

Spike put his hand on Xander's thigh beneath the bubbling water. "Because we're gonna shag, and soon, before I soddin' burst."   


 

Xander was the one who burst -- out laughing. Spike snatched his hand back, his straining cock deflating, and he glared at the brunette. "What's so funny?"   


 

"Nothing," Xander replied between chortles.   


 

Spike moved away from Xander and crossed his arms. Humiliation burned his cheeks. "Right. Nothing."   


 

"I'm sorry," Xander said, his laughter trailing off into a widely amused smile. "I just didn't expect to be propositioned by you."   


 

"You came on to me," Spike said in a tone of voice that was a cross between anger and sullenness.   


 

"When?" Xander asked.   


 

"In the bedroom, you daft twit," Spike grumbled.   


 

"Spike, Spike, Spike," Xander chuckled, "I guess I'm not used to the way mortals think anymore."   


 

"So you weren't coming on to me?"   


 

"If I'd been coming on to you there'd be no mistake about it," Xander replied. He dropped his head back and closed his eyes. "Besides, I have to get permission to take you as a lover, and Death's nowhere around."   


 

Spike was starting to get used to staring dumfounded at Xander. "Permission?"   


 

"Yep," Xander said. "If you're still interested later, I'll get it and we'll have a quick tumble before I have to go back to work."   


 

Spike didn't know whether to laugh or stake himself. He knew it was going to be a bad day when he'd woken up to find Buffy glaring down at him, a question from Giles on her lips.   


 

The vampire decided to do neither, settled back against the tub wall and shut his eyes. After a few minutes, the pulsing jets and hot water relaxed him into a contented daze. Perhaps later he would take Xander up on his offer of a quickie before the brunette returned to work. Work?   


 

"Work?" Spike repeated the question aloud. He opened his eyes and peered across the water at Xander. "What work?"   


 

"My work," Xander answered.   


 

Spike ground his teeth together, his tension returning. "Your work doing what?" he clarified.   


 

Xander raised his head and opened his eyes. "My work as Death's apprentice, what else?"   


 

"Doing what?" Spike repeated, his jaw clenched tight.   


 

A frown settled between Xander's brows. "What do you mean, 'doing what?' I work for Death."   


 

"I know that," Spike ground out. He tried a different tactic. "And what does Death do?"   


 

Xander's frown grew. "He's Death. What do you think he does?"   


 

"For the love of all that's evil, will you quit with the bloody cryptic-boy routine!" Spike exclaimed.   


 

Understanding flashed across Xander's face and a half-smirk appeared on his lips. "You think 'Death' is just Death's name."   


 

"And your name is Xander and my name is About To Kill Xander," Spike responded.   


 

"Well no wonder you couldn't see Death's face," Xander said with a chuckle.   


 

Spike blew out an irritated puff of air. He really needed his cigarettes. "What does that have to do with anything?"   


 

"Spike," Xander began. "Death is really Death. The Last Lover. The Master of Time. The Grim Reaper. The Guy with the Scythe. The Man Who Comes to End Your Mortal Life."   


 

"Uh-huh," Spike didn't believe a word, "right."   


 

"He is," Xander insisted with a smile. He raised his hand and made a quick design with his finger in the air. His smile widened as he lowered his hand. "You'll see."   


 

"He'll see what?"   


 

Spike glowered at the newcomer. The shadows once again clouded Death's face, but Spike recognized the voice. If the man was really Death, why was he wearing jeans and not robes?   


 

The vampire's eyes widened as the shadow-faced man's clothing changed before his eyes. Holy crap!, Spike thought, his eyes darting to Xander before returning to Death. Had Xander been telling the truth? Or was this another magick trick?   


 

The now-robed figure's face shifted and morphed into an intimately familiar countenance that had Spike shooting to his feet and his own face twisting into its vampiric ridges. "Angel, what the hell are you doing here?"   


 

Xander laughed. "I knew it!"   


 

"Darkling, what are you giggling about?" Angel-faced Death said, crouching beside the whirlpool.   


 

"Spike didn't believe that you are really the Master of Mortals," Xander explained, still laughing. "I removed the See Me spell and ever-so-successfully convinced him who you are." He chortled. "I just can't believe he sees Angel when he pictures Death."   


 

"Make it go away," Spike said abruptly, alternating glaring between Death and Xander. "Now."   


 

Xander stifled his mirth, made a sign in the air and said, "See what I see."   


 

Spike watched as Angel dissolved into the square-jawed, hazel-eyed blond he'd first met as Death. The vampire nodded once. "Better."   


 

"You're welcome," Xander said.   


 

Spike ignored him and sat again. He suddenly felt very naked.   


 

"If you're done playing," Death said pointedly. "I have news."   


 

Xander focused instantly. "The Choata?"   


 

Death nodded. "Two of them were stolen from the pens. The keeper found them missing when he returned the one on assignment to its stall."   


 

"Assignment?" Xander said. "Who?"   


 

"Thurston Pready," Death replied. "Did you know him?"   


 

"He was in my class during my teaching tour. Nice kid," Xander replied. "Too bad."   


 

Spike heard the indifference in Xander's tone and he was reminded of what Death had said earlier about Xander not caring about anything. If Death was really Death, did that mean what he'd said was true?   


 

"Yes, a pity," Death agreed with Xander. "There's nothing left of him except for his head. I had Mommuni put him with the others at the Graveyard."   


 

"I still think you should put the immortal corpses on display at the Academy," Xander said. "It'd be a great deterrent."   


 

Death chuckled. "That's positively morbid, my Dark Cavalier. I like it."   


 

Spike's curiosity peaked. "Immortal corpses?"   


 

"Yeah. You'd probably get a kick out of 'em, Spike," Xander said, grinning at the blond vampire. "Immortals can't die, but we don't heal from everything. Most of the Graveyard is filled with chewed up apprentices that were hunted by the Choata for some reason or another."   


 

"They're still alive, though?" Spike asked incredulously.   


 

Xander nodded. "Eternal punishment at its cruelest. Neat, huh?"   


 

Spike felt a chill run down his spine. It was grotesque, morbid, and the thought of being an ever-living head without a body attached freaked him. It was great! "I might have to see this Graveyard."   


 

"It's a date," Xander said with a wink. "Speaking of dates and things to do on them," he glanced up at Death, "may I have sex with Spike?"   


 

Here's that dumbfounded gaping again, Spike thought, his mouth hanging open as he stared at Xander in shock. Under the swirling water, Spike Number Two stirred back to life.   


 

"Yes, you may," Death granted. "Remember, he's mortal. He'll need to sleep sometime."   


 

Xander's lips curved into a wicked smile, his dark eyes dancing with mischief. "But not anytime soon."   


 

Oh bugger, was the whirlpool water hot, Spike thought, unable to break eye-contact with Xander.

 

"I'll leave you two to your fun," Death said, rising from his crouch. "Xander, don't forget about the two Choata when you return to Sunnydale. I don't know how fast I can gather a hunting party to retrieve them."   


 

"Okay," Xander said, his gaze still locked on Spike. "And thanks, Master."   


 

"You're quite welcome," Death said, then quietly left the room.   


 

"So," Xander said.   


 

"So," Spike echoed.   


 

They sat in there in the bubbling water in silence, neither of them moving an inch.   


**Part Eight**    
  
  
  
  


Xander watched through half-lidded eyes as Spike shifted uncomfortably, the silence having stretched on to that point. And the vampire should be uncomfortable, considering Xander could end his life with a flick of a wrist. That thought sent a perverse thrill through the Dark Cavalier and he hardened beneath the water.   


Damn, this should be good, Xander thought, his lips twitching as Spike cleared his throat. He hadn't had a mortal lover in a long time. He'd forgotten how impatient they were. Of course, that came with the territory of having a limited amount of Time to live. All Xander had on his hands was Time.   


Well, that, and he'd shortly have his hands on Spike.   


"Hey Spike," Xander said casually. "Wanna have sex?"   


For a moment, Spike stared in shock, then a corner of his mouth quirked. "Not one for subtlety, eh?"   


Xander grinned as he stood. "Told ya you'd know if I was coming on to you."   


Spike laughed, and the uncomfortable atmosphere disappeared. Xander shook his head in amusement and climbed out of the whirlpool. "Come on," he said, heading over to a stack of fluffy blue towels piled on a white whicker shelving unit. "The bed beckons."   


"Seems like an awfully long way to walk," Spike commented. "Why don't we just shag here?"   


"Because it takes two minutes to change the sheets and two hours to change the tub water," Xander answered. He threw a towel at Spike's head and chuckled when the vampire scowled at him after barely catching it. "Let's go, mortal. I'm horny, and you're easy."   


"Am not," Spike grumbled. Xander watched appreciatively as the water cascaded down the blond's lean body as he climbed out of the tub. Very nice.   


"Mm, yeah," Xander purred. The towel around his waist began to tent. "Death was right. You are cute."   


"I am not cute." Spike glared at the brunette. "Bunnies are cute. The Witches holding hands are cute. Babies are... sick, disgusting little things. Bad example."   


Xander laughed again and started back to the bedroom. "I take it back. You're adorable." The brunette heard a choking sputter behind him and laughed harder. Oh man, he hadn't laughed this much in a long time.   


Which meant, of course, his merriment had to be woefully interrupted. Xander halted, both in step and laughter, the moment he crossed the threshold to his bedroom. His relaxed posture straightened and his playful tone of voice was replaced by a no-nonsense one. "What are you guys doing here?"   


Seated on the bed, Samuel and Anthony both smiled at him. Samuel's smile was friendly. Anthony's was cruel. The raven-haired man looked pointedly at Xander's crotch. "That... deflates one rumor."   


"How amusing," Xander said dryly. He further entered the room, scooped up Spike's jeans and turned to the door.   


Spike was standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, navy towel riding low on his hips. His face was a cool mask, and he asked blandly, "Aren't you going to introduce us, pet?"   


"Spike, this is Samuel and Anthony, my oldest friends," Xander said, walking over to the vampire to hand him his jeans. "Guys, meet Spike, my... oldester friend."   


"Hi, Spike," Samuel said cheerfully, his round face lighting up with actual pleasure to meet the blond.   


"It's a pleasure," Anthony drawled. "However, contrary to the Dark Cavalier's introduction, I am not his friend."   


The word "friend" dripped with disdain and Xander shot him an unamused look. The brunette went to his closet and, keeping his back to the room, dropped the towel and slipped into a clean pair of black jeans. It wasn't a problem to zip them up, his erection had most definitely disappeared.   


"Again, what are you guys doing here?" Xander asked, not bothering to put a shirt on. He grabbed a clean pair of socks and his boots and moved to sit on the windowsill to put them on.   


"We heard about the Choata," Samuel replied. Concern replaced the friendly smile. "We came to see if you were okay."   


"Which it looks as though you are," Anthony added. "Pity."   


Xander had the unsurprising urge to choke the man. "Sorry, Anthony, I'm still immortal and killing."   


"I guess this means you won't be working until the Choata are caught," Samuel said. "I hope the Collections Board takes the death-hunters into account when the Collections aren't made. I'd hate for you to be disciplined--"   


"I'm still working," Xander interrupted.   


"But Xander, it's dangerous!" Samuel exclaimed. "You're probably under enough stress working in Sunnydale, where you spent your mortal life. Adding the Choata--"   


"Wait," Xander interrupted again, wearing a frown. "How do you know where my tour is? And how do you know Sunnydale was my mortal homeplace?"   


"Everyone's assignments are posted at the Academy, dimwit," Anthony said. "Oh, that's right, you wouldn't know that, would you? Deathboy didn't have to attend the Academy like the rest of us lowly peons."   


"Anthony, hush," Samuel scolded. Anthony smirked nastily, but hushed.   


Xander glared daggers at the gaunt man. Why did Samuel insist on hanging around with that asshole? "That doesn't explain how you know I'm from Sunnydale."   


"You told us, Xander," Samuel replied, ducking his head. "Don't you remember? It was the first day after the MCE's...?"   


Xander ran a hand through his shaggy hair and relaxed slightly. "Sorry, Samuel. Seven-hundred-some years was a hell of a long time ago."   


Spike cleared his throat and all eyes shot to him. Shit, Xander thought. He'd forgotten the mortal was there.   


The jeans-clad vampire's scarred brow was arched as he looked questioningly at Xander. "Ducks, last time I checked, you were only twenty. Well, twenty-two now, I guess, since you're not dead."   


Xander mentally groaned as Anthony and Samuel latched onto what Spike said. No one in Death's realm outside of the Academy was twenty, every immortal knew that. This just wasn't his day. "Spike, the mortal Xander  _is_  dead."   


The second brow joined the first up in Spike's hairline. "Unless you're a vamp, you make a pretty sexy corpse."   


It was neither the time, nor place, but... "You think I'm sexy?"   


Spike scowled, and Xander could swear that the vampire was blushing. "As toe fungus," the blond grumped.   


Ego stroked, Xander almost forgot that Spike's commentary had created a mess. He was unhappily reminded when Samuel started sputtering.   


"You- you- you brought a mortal here?!?" Samuel looked aghast.   


Anthony, however, looked evilly delighted. "How I cannot wait to spread the news: the infallible Dark Cavalier breaks one of the Cardinal Rules. Simply marvelous."   


Xander dropped his head and rubbed his temples. First the assignment in Sunnydale, then Spike being able to see him, then the Choata, then missing out on getting laid, and now this. Wah. "I didn't have much choice."   


"Xander, please explain," Samuel whispered in a horrified tone.   


Xander's head snapped up and he gave Samuel and Anthony dark looks. Damn it, he didn't have to explain himself to anybody except Death! Who did they think they were, his... friends?   


Dear hell, he really was an unfeeling bastard. He didn't even recognize the fact that others cared about him. Well, at least, Samuel cared. Anthony was just a prick who was always with the rotund Collector.   


Still, Xander was a bit snippy when he answered. "Remember that Choata you were so worried about a few minutes ago? It was going to munch on Spike's gizzard if I didn't do something."   


"He's a mortal," Anthony said scornfully. "Mortals are supposed to die."   


"And so will you, when I rip your intestines out through your bloody beak," Spike growled.   


"Xander, I still don't understand," Samuel said. "Why was the Choata after the mortal? I thought they only went after Collectors..."   


Anthony laughed at Spike. "I'd like to see you try."   


"It'll be my pleasure," Spike snarled dangerously. Anthony laughed harder.   


"ENOUGH!" Xander's voice reverberated against the empty, white walls as he shot to his feet. A sharp wind flicked through the air, seeming to slap the others' cheeks. His dark eyes glittered with otherworldly sparks of light. When he spoke again, his tone was as hard as granite.   


" _I_  was the one assigned to Sunnydale.  _I_  was the one the Choata was after.  _My_  touch was on Spike and the Choata went after  _him_ , and it was  _my_  decision to bring him here." His angry gaze pierced Anthony. "If you want to tell the universe about it, be my guest. But get one thing straight before you do:  _He_   _wasn't on the list._ "  


Silence. Xander sucked in a slow breath and the wind died down. He unclenched his fists, ignoring the little shoots of pain from where his fingernails had cut into his palms.   


"Why didn't you just say he was an innocent?" Samuel ventured tentatively.   


Xander dropped his chin and half-laughed in defeat.   


"Innocent?!" Spike said. "I'm about as innocent as--"   


"Spike, shut up," Xander interrupted wearily. "Just shut up."   


"Don't tell me to bloody shut up, you dead nonce," Spike snapped. "You have no control over m--"   


The sounds coming out of Spike's mouth suddenly stopped as Xander put his finger to his lips in the universal sign for quiet. Spike kept speaking, however, and the brunette lip-read a couple of interesting curses, but at least it was silent again. Magick good, Spike-induced headache bad.   


"Samuel, I appreciate your concern," Xander began, ignoring both the now-pouting vampire and Anthony. "No worries, though. Death is forming a hunting party for the Choata and he's okay'd Spike's being here. If there's a problem with the Collections Board, Death will remind them that I was assigned to my mortal homeplace for this tour of duty, which, I gather, is a big No-No. That should keep me out of the disciplinarians' grasp."   


Something flashed across Samuel's face -- anger? Nah. -- before the rotund man's brow furrowed with uneasiness. "I'm sure the Collections Board will allow you time off until the Choata are captured..."   


Xander gave him a half-grin. "That's okay, Samuel. I'll be fine."   


"All right." Samuel stood, as did his dog, Anthony -- ooh, snarky Xander -- and turned to Spike. "It was a pleasure, Spike. I'm certain I'll see you again."   


Spike tried to speak, found that no sound came out, and pursed his lips in anger. He waved his fingers in a mockery of a child's goodbye.   


"Bye, Xander," Samuel said as he started out of the room.   


"Yes, goodbye, Deathboy," Anthony chimed. "I wish you bad luck with the Choata."   


"Come on, Anthony." Samuel grabbed the tall, gaunt man's arm, smiled at Xander, then dragged Anthony out of the bedroom.   


Xander dropped his head back and let out a low, "Gaaaaaaaaaaaaah."   


A tap on his bare chest brought his eyes down to meet Spike's glinting blue ones. The vampire's lips were twisted in the cutest little snarl, and Xander didn't fight his grin. The blue eyes flashed gold before resuming their icy glare.   


"Oh, all right, you can speak again," Xander said with mock exasperation.   


"If--" Spike was startled by the sound of his voice, but only for a moment. "If you ever do that again, I will rip your tongue out and see if  _you_  like not being able to speak."   


"Sounds like a waste of a good tongue," Xander commented, just before he kissed Spike.   
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Part Nine**    
  
  
  
  


_Once upon a time, before the Dark Cavalier, before vampires, before puberty, Xander had a best friend named Willow and a best friend named Jesse. One ordinary day, he sat with his two best friends and watched a movie. On the screen in front of them, a boy and a girl were kissing.  
  
_

_"Willow," he had asked. "How do you know if you love somebody?"  
  
_

_"It's easy," Willow had replied. "The first time you kiss someone, even though your eyes are closed, you blink."_    


Xander blinked.   


"Darkling! Will you come here a moment?"   


Slowly, Xander pulled back from the soft mouth under his and took a very shaky breath. He opened his eyes and fell headfirst into twin pools of deep azure. Drowning. Sinking.  _Feeling_.   


"Darkling! I will not ask a third time!"   


"I'll be right back," Xander said roughly, hands slipping away reluctantly from bare skin.   


Small nod. A lick of those soft lips.   


Xander hurried out of the room.   


"There you are," Death said, his hands resting on his hips as Xander met him in the front hall. "I know you're playing with the mortal, but that's no reason for you not to come when I call."   


"Sorry," Xander said distractedly. He ran a hand through his dark locks and took another shaky breath. Wow. Wow-o-wow-o-wow-o-wowie-wow.   


"Boy, are you listening to me?"   


"Huh?" Xander blinked several times, then smiled sheepishly at his Master. "Can you repeat that?"   


"I asked you if you wished to join the hunting party," Death said. "After all, the Choata were sent after  _you_."   


"Yeah, I do," Xander said. He shook his head to clear it and really focused on Death. "When?"   


"I'm going to brief those in the party right now," Death replied.   


"Okay. Just let me grab a shirt and... shit."   


Death's blond brow went up. "Pardon?"   


"Spike," Xander said. He groaned. "I am  _never_  going to get laid."   


"You can screw him blind when we return," Death told him. "Until then, he is welcome to stay here." The Taker of Life frowned. "Although, I suppose he must eat sometime. Mortals are funny that way."   


"I don't know how to whip up a blood-burger, do you?" Xander asked.   


"I kill mortals, I don't feed them," Death said with a hint of disgust.   


"Damn," Xander cursed quietly. "Spike's going to flip if he can't eat  _and_  has to stay here while we're gone."   


"Why do you care?" Death asked curiously.   


"Because... because...," Xander frowned deeply, "...I don't know."   


"That's as good of a reason as any," Death smiled. "Well, I must be going. I'll wait for you at the Door."   


Xander nodded and Death left. The brunette sank down on the second step of the royal blue staircase and stared blankly at the white tiled front hall floor. What the hell was happening? It was as if his content, simple, immortal life had suddenly been thrust into a maelstrom.   


Xander thumped his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah," he moaned with each hit. "Bah."   


First things first, Xander told himself. What to do with Spike? The vampire sure as hell wouldn't want to stay by himself at the mansion. Xander knew he himself wouldn't if their positions were reversed. So where could Spike go where he would be safe from the Choata and possibly be fed?   


"Giles's!" Xander exclaimed aloud. "Duh. You'd think I hadn't been a mortal in 835 years... and you're talking to yourself in the front hall like a dork."   


Xander jumped up and jogged up the stairs to his bedroom. Spike was standing near the window, keeping clear from the sun, chewing on his nails. The blond glanced over at him with a part-questioning, part-hungry look.   


One, two, three, four and... mmmm...   


Xander quickly broke the kiss with a painful laugh. "Blue balls. Something else to add to my list of recent disasters."   


"Don't tell me we're not going to bloody shag," Spike said.   


Xander sighed and leaned his forehead against Spike's. "Raincheck?"   


"You'd better be the greatest fuck in the universe," Spike grumbled.   


"I have it on the highest authority that I am," Xander said with a leer. Spike snorted as Xander moved away. The brunette grabbed Spike's shirt from the floor and tossed it to the vampire. "Get dressed."   


"Why for?" Spike asked.   


Xander walked to his closet, snagged a dark grey tee-shirt from the shelf and slipped it on. "I'm going Choata hunting, and I figured you wouldn't want to stay here by yourself."   


"Damn straight."   


Xander removed his pen from the pocket of the jeans on the floor by his feet, but his notebook was missing. "You didn't see a small blue notebook laying around?" he asked as he searched through the pile of dirty clothes.   


"Like this one?" Spike said, holding up the notebook.   


"Yeah," Xander replied, crossing to Spike, who was seated on the floor at the foot of the bed putting on his boots. "Thanks."   


"You know, you have a whole box full of those little blue buggers," Spike said casually. "Makes a bloke curious as to what they are."   


"They're the names of everyone I've killed in the last seven centuries," Xander told him as he slid the notebook into his back pocket.   


Spike stared at him. "Bullshit."   


Xander grinned. "Jealous?"   


"You're lying your dead arse off," Spike said. "And you're not seven hundred effin' years old."   


"That's true," Xander said. He offered Spike a hand up. "I'm actually 835. Well, 855 if you include the years I was a mortal."   


"Now I know you're a lying little chit," Spike said authoritatively. He poked Xander in the chest. "You've only been dead for two soddin' years."   


Xander chuckled. "Time moves differently for me, Spike," he explained. "Earth is one of the slowest realms in the universe. You think I've been Gone for two years, when, in my reality, I've been Gone for 835."   


Spike studied him a moment, before his eyes widened slightly. "Holy crap, you really are that old."   


"Yep."   


"And you really did off all those folks in your books."   


"Yes, I did," Xander said.   


"Did you enjoy it?"   


Xander rolled his eyes and started for the door. "It's my job, Spike."   


"Someone's not answering the question," Spike sing-songed from behind him.   


Xander suddenly spun around, grabbed Spike and hauled the blond up against him. "No," he growled. "I don't give a damn about mortals one way or the other. Got it?"   


"Are you sure about that?" Spike asked thoughtfully. "Because you're going through a lot of trouble for little ol' me."   


Xander barked out a cruel laugh. "What do you want me to do, Spike? Stroke your ego or your cock?" He released Spike with a small shove. "I don't feel like playing 'Xander's An Uncaring Bastard' right now. I have a Choata to kill."   


Xander pivoted on his heel and stalked away.   


Spike caught up with him at the front door, spun him around and kicked him. Xander's head flung back with the impact of Spike's booted foot to the underside of his chin.   


Xander stared at the vampire in shock as he rubbed his jaw. "What the hell was that for?"   


"The Slayer once told me that everyone needs a good boot to the head at times," Spike replied. He grinned. "And I, for once, agree with the silly bint."   


Xander looked at him in confusion for a moment, then burst out laughing. "You have got to be the strangest mortal I've ever met."   


Spike thread his thumbs through his belt loops and rocked back on his heels. "Rumor has it, I'm a bloody good shag, too."   


Xander materialized an umbrella, flung an arm around Spike's shoulder, and headed out the door. "Well, that remains to be seen... and heard... and felt."   


*****   


The trip to the Hall of Doors was made at a leisurely pace, with Spike questioning Xander about those he'd killed, complete with specific, gruesome detail. The vampire debated the pros and cons of several techniques that he, like Xander, had used to kill someone; and he was practically giddy for finding someone intelligent to share stories with, without getting disgusted looks from his audience or needing to worry whether they'd find out about his chip.   


Spike was horny as hell, though, and he hated the fact that his tete-a-tete with Xander had been postponed. He had wanted to bathe that tattoo with his tongue and watch Xander squirm beneath him. He had really wanted to play with that small silver ring at the end of Xander's prick, as well.   


Oh hell, and that kiss. That first kiss. Turned Spike's knees to jelly and made him wonder why there were shooting stars behind his eyelids. The second kiss had simply made him hungry for more.   


But he had a greater, insatiable urge to get Xander to care.   


Spike didn't know why he wanted this, or why  _he_  even cared if the shaggy-haired brunette cared for others or not. It had perturbed him when Death had said that Xander didn't care about anything. The urge had increased when Spike had seen how cold Xander was with his so-called friends. It had grown in leaps and bounds when Xander had personally told Spike that he could care less about mortals.   


Besides, what sort of moron chose to hunt for an overgrown, slobbering mutt over getting laid? It just wasn't cricket.   


Loud, boisterous voices from a knot of human males and females traveled up the hall to Spike and Xander. Spike saw Death leaning against the wall across from the group, the same wall that Xander had cracked. "The hunting party?" he guessed.   


"Yeah," Xander said. He grabbed Spike's arm and stopped. "Listen, when we join them, just keep your mouth shut and act like you're a Collector."   


Spike had learned that term on the long walk, but he didn't understand. "Why?"   


"I don't know if Anthony," the name dripped with acid, "spread the word that I brought a mortal here. I'd like to keep it hush-hush if I can."   


Spike gave him mock pout. "Ashamed of me, luv?"   


"Yes." Xander grinned. "Now, come on."   


The vampire gave him the two-fingered salute, but followed docilely. He observed that, the closer they got to the group, the straighter Xander's posture became and the more no-nonsense he looked. It reminded Spike of Riley when the cornwad was feeling threatened. The "I am a big, strong, hoo-ha military git and I am always in control" look.   


Xander was friendly with his greetings, however, when the humans spotted them. But Spike noticed that Xander's smile was plastic, his laugh was fake, and he didn't touch anyone. This Xander was nothing like the man Spike had seen smile, heard laugh or felt touch his lips in the past however-many hours.   


No one seemed to notice Xander's aloofness, though. The people in the hunting party were acting genuinely neighborly with the brunette. Except for one person, who emerged from the group at the side of an over-jovial roly-poly man.   


"Why look, Samuel," Anthony drolled. "It's the Dark One and his sex toy."   


"Anthony," Xander said, grinding his teeth. "So nice of you to join the hunting party to save my immortal hide."   


"Of course we'd join, Xander," Samuel said. "You'd help us if we needed it."   


"Of course," Xander responded non-commitally.   


"Just like I knew you'd say," Samuel gushed. "We'll get the Choata, Xander. Don't you worry."   


Spike snorted. Couldn't the daft twit see that Xander didn't care a fig for him? Xander would probably help, yes, but more than likely just to kill something.   


"What will you do with your honey while hunting?" Anthony asked sweetly, giving Spike the once over.   


The prick reminded Spike of a sickly-looking Angelus. Anthony had a cruel niceness and a mock cheerfulness that made the vampire's eyeteeth itch. He wouldn't bite, though. The buggery nonce probably tasted rotten.   


"Somewhere safe," Xander answered, glancing around at the others as if cataloging them.   


"Are you sure there is such a place?" Samuel said worriedly. "He is an innocent. I wouldn't want him to be killed. That would be ten times worse for you in the eyes of the Board than bringing the mortal here; and I don't think Death would be able to protect you for such an infraction."   


"Yeah, he'll be safe enough with good ol' Rupert Giles," Xander said distractedly. "With all of us there, the Choata won't be able to scent a slightly touched-by-death mortal." He gestured with his chin towards someone. "What's Marisa doing here? I thought she said she wouldn't get within eighty Doors of the death-hunters."   


"She did," Samuel replied. He giggled. "But she also has a crush on you."   


"And obviously abysmal taste," Anthony added.   


Xander leaned closer to Spike and murmured, "So does Samuel."   


"Children, children," Death clapped his hands, "quiet please."   


Spike grinned at Xander, who winked in return. As Death began to give instructions, Xander mouthed the dirtiest things he was going to do to the vampire. A chill of anticipation crept down Spike's back. Not fair that he had to wait; he'd much rather throw Xander to the ground and--   


"Dark Cavalier, do you have anything you wish to add?"   


All eyes turned to Xander, who gave Spike a "we're caught!" look, cleared his throat and said, "Uh... go team?"   


Everyone hooted and hollered in response, and started through the door Death held open. Spike captured Xander's eye again, and they both snorted in laughter as the hallway began to clear.   


When they got to the door, they both smiled innocently at Death. Death rolled his eyes and smacked Xander on the butt as he passed. "Take care, you naughty Boy."   


"Sir, yes sir!" Xander barked. He suddenly grabbed Spike's wrist and ran, laughing sincerely as they entered Earth's realm.   
  
  
  
  


**Part Ten**    
  
  
  
  


Darkness.  _Yes!_  Spike barely refrained himself from throwing his head back and howling at the moon. As it was, he bounced twice on his toes before realizing he must look like an utter git.   


They had come out across the street from Giles's condo, which was odd. Spike had expected they would appear where they'd disappeared, and that he could retrieve what was left of his duster. He missed his duster. It had style. It had history. It had a full pack of smokes in one pocket and a Zippo in the other.   


"Hey, mate," Spike said, looking around. "Where are the others?"   


"All over Sunnydale," Xander replied as he started across the street. "Even though it's only been about a minute, Earth time, the Choata could be anywhere."   


"A minute?" Spike said skeptically. "We were there a lot longer than a minute."   


"Time moves differently here, remember?" Xander said. "I hope you can come up with a good excuse for staying at Giles's." He looked over at Spike with a frown marring his brow. "You are still in the semi-good with him, right? I'm not leading you to the stake, am I?"   


"No, things are the same as they were before you croaked," Spike said, descending the stairs into the courtyard. "How long do I have to stay at Chateau Rupaire?"   


"Until I come get you, or until another Collector comes to tell you my head's been added to the Graveyard," Xander replied.   


Spike stopped at the stone picnic table and hopped up onto it. "So there's a right good chance you'll kick it? I thought you were the best of the best, or whatnot."   


"The death-hunters were created specifically by Death to be able to take Collectors down," Xander said. He moved in front of Spike, wedging himself between the vampire's knees. "There has to be some way to control us, or we'd take over the universe."   


"Well then," Spike grinned salaciously, "you'd best give this horny old vampire a blowjob, just in case you don't make it back from the trenches."   


Xander chuckled and ran his hands up Spike's jeans-clad thighs. "You'd look pretty silly sitting out here with your pants down, moaning like a dead cow while an invisible person gives you head."   


"I do not moan like a dead cow," Spike scowled. "I'm a manly moaner."   


"A manly moaner, huh?" Xander smiled teasingly.   


"Oh, shut up," Spike grumbled, grabbing the back of Xander's neck and pulling him in for a kiss. It felt so good, so right to be kissing Xander Harris, even though the bloke was technically dead. Then again, so was Spike.   


Spike slipped his tongue between the brunette's firm lips, sliding into battle with Xander's tongue. What the vampire wouldn't give to be able to take Xander then and there, to see if he really was the greatest shag in the universe. He certainly was the best kisser, in Spike's book. Next to Spike himself, of course.   


At first, Spike thought that he was the one growling. But when Xander pulled away with a startled curse, Spike realized that the sound was coming from behind him. He didn't have to look. He knew what it was that was growling.   


He looked anyway. The Choata was standing at the top of the stairs, its dark fur rippling over its tensed muscles as it poised to jump. Its pointed ears were flat against its head, and its lips were pulled back in a snarl, with sharply curved teeth glistening with saliva. Its low, chilling growl wrapped around the courtyard and slithered down Spike's spine, bringing back the terror from before.   


" _Move!_ " Xander yelled. He latched onto Spike's arm, hauled him off the table and started running for Giles's door.   


The Choata's growl rose in pitch before it launched itself down the steps, its thick claws screeching against the stone ground as it pushed off. It landed sure-footedly at the bottom and didn't pause in its charge at the two men.   


Xander shoved Spike in front of him as they reached the door, and Spike scrambled to make the doorknob work. Please, please, please, the vampire prayed. Don't let Giles have finally taken his advice and locked the door.   


Stupid, Spike knew, but he dared to glance over his shoulder. His already ashen game-face blanched, and he knew if he didn't dye his hair there would be a streak of white through it. The huge creature was in the air, leaping at its prey, claws extended for a debilitating blow.   


Spike made a choking sound of pure fear and his blunt nails scraped against the metal doorknob as he banged his shoulder against the door. The heavy wood door suddenly swung open, and Spike tumbled inside, knocking Giles to the floor.   


Xander was right behind him, and the Dark Cavalier slammed the door shut barely in time. The Choata hit the opposite side with a howl of protest, making the windows rattle.   


Spike was on his feet and backing towards the hallway. He was panting heavily, a fear-induced hyperventilation despite his not needing to breathe. He could hear the death-hunter clawing at the door, trying to get in. Trying to get him.   


"Spike, what is it?" Buffy asked, grabbing her coat off the arm of the couch and sliding it on. "Do I need a stake, sword, grenade, what?"   


"It must be pretty close," Willow said worriedly, grabbing for Tara's hand. "How close is it?"   


Giles climbed to his feet and walked towards the panicking Spike. "Spike, you need to tell us what you saw," he said calmly, "and where you saw whatever it is."   


Xander bypassed Giles, grabbed Spike by the upper arms and shook the vampire slightly. "Spike, look at me," he ordered. "Focus on me."   


Spike blinked rapidly and tore his yellow gaze from the door. He focused on the hard, brown eyes in front of him and swallowed heavily.   


"They can't hear or see the Choata, do you understand?" Xander said. "Only you and I can."   


Spike nodded slightly. The scratching at the door stopped, but he knew the Choata was still outside. Waiting.   


"Spike?" Giles said questioningly, stopping a few feet away from the vampire. "Spike, are you all right?"   


"I need you to stay inside," Xander instructed. "No matter what, I need you to stay inside. Do you hear me, Spike?  _No matter what_."   


"You're not going back out there?" Spike whispered with fear-tinged incredulity.   


"I have to," Xander said affirmatively.   


"Spike, if you saw something wigginsy, I have to go out there," Buffy said, pulling things out of the weapons chest and tucking them in her pockets.   


Spike shook his head. "No--"   


"I have to," Xander repeated. He released Spike's arm and ran his thumb against the vampire's lower lip. "My job is not just to bring death, but to protect the innocent, too. And that's you."   


"Maybe you shouldn't go, Buffy," Willow said. "If it scared Spike, it's probably really bad."   


"Really, really bad," Tara added.   


Xander leaned forward and brushed his lips against Spike's. "Stay inside," he told the vampire. "I'm going to destroy this thing, and then you're going to find out what it's like to sleep with the greatest lover in the universe."   


Spike pressed his lips together as Xander turned and headed for the door. A scythe, as Spike had learned it was called, materialized in Xander's hand. The brunette spun it once and slid it into a fighting hold, the black pole resting against the back of Xander's arm, the curved blade at an angle by his knees. Spike watched as Xander squared his shoulders, then walked through the closed door.   


"Spike, are you--" Giles began, turning as the blond vampire darted past the Watcher, "--going to tell us what's going on?"   


"No," Spike said, sliding to a halt in front of the window. He moved the filmy curtain back and peered outside into the courtyard.   


"What?!" Buffy squawked.   


"Gah!" Spike exclaimed, jumping back when a furred body slammed into the window. He tripped over the weapons Buffy had scattered over the floor and went down. He smacked his head on the edge of the coffee table and a spiked mace punctured his lower back as he landed on it.   


Buffy rolled her eyes. "Good going, slick."   


Willow giggled, then quickly cleared her throat. "I wasn't laughing. Not me."   


"Are you all right?" Giles questioned.   


Spike ignored them, ignored the pain, ignored the fact that he was bleeding, and scrambled back to the window.   


Outside, Xander swung the scythe at the Choata's belly. It sliced through the creature's skin and it howled in pain. A claw swipe had Xander staggering back, but he brought the curved tip of the scythe up sharply, catching the death-hunter under the jaw.   


Xander jerked the scythe up and back, ripping the Choata's lower jaw off. Blood spattered everywhere, thick and dark against the pale stone ground, adding to the pools of color already there.   


The Choata launched itself at Xander, its exposed upper teeth scraping against the brunette's arm as he put it up to block. Xander's own teeth gleamed dangerously as he snarled back at the creature. He slammed his thumb -- the same thumb that, just a few moments ago, had rubbed Spike's lower lip -- into the Choata's glowing red eye.   


The roar of pain from the death-hunter shook the window in front of Spike. The vampire leaned his ridged forehead against the glass and quietly chanted, "Come on, pet, finish it. Finish it."   


"You think, maybe, it's humans?" Willow suggested to the others, who had gathered by Giles's kitchen. "A gang or something?"   


"He can't protect himself a-against humans," Tara agreed. "That could be scary."   


"Giles," Buffy spoke up, a worried look on her face. "What if Spike was telling the truth yesterday? What if it's Xander?"   


"That is a possibility," Giles said, removing his glasses and looking towards Spike. "Perhaps whomever or whatever he saw yesterday was non-benevolent."   


Spike's ridges slipped away and he breathed a sigh of relief when the Choata went down. He saw Xander swing his scythe and chop off the death-hunter's head, and a smile graced the vampire's lips.   


The smile disappeared as Xander dropped the scythe, staggered a few steps, then collapsed to the hard ground. "No," Spike whispered, his blue eyes widening in panic. "No, no, no!"   


Spike bolted for the door, catching the attention of the other four in the house, and he threw it open. He skinned his knees as he skidded across the stone ground in his rush to Xander's side.   


The brunette had bite marks, cuts, and was covered in blood, both his and the Choata's. Spike's attention, however, was focused on the deep gouge that ran diagonal across Xander's chest, from hip to sternum. Deep red blood flowed freely from the wound, soaking into the torn edges of Xander's dark grey tee.   


It was exactly like the gash that had ended Xander's life two years ago.   


"No, you don't," Spike growled, sliding his arms under Xander and pushing to his feet. "I'm not going to let you die on me again. Do you hear me, you bloody wanker? You're not going to do this again!"   


Spike carried Xander into Giles's house and over to the couch. "Somebody help me here."   


The other four stared at him as he lowered nothing onto the sofa. "Er... with what?" Giles ventured tentatively.   


"First aid kit," Spike replied, kneeling beside Xander. "Towels, tape, bloody big bandages."   


"Right," Giles said, heading out of the kitchen. The girls began to creep closer to the couch.   


Spike ripped the dark grey tee-shirt from hem to neck and spread it open. There was so much blood he couldn't tell where the gash exactly was. He pulled his own black tee over his head and used it to mop up, ignoring the hunger churning inside of him.   


A low moan of pain snapped Spike's attention to Xander's face. The brunette blinked open his eyes and looked at Spike. "How bad?" he hissed.   


"Real bad," Spike answered.   


Xander lifted his head and looked down his body. He chuckled-groaned. "That's bad."   


He turned the hand closest to Spike fingers up and opened his palm. A spool of navy wax thread and a threaded needle materialized in his hand. "Stitch me up before I bleed out."   


Spike nodded and took the items from Xander. He unrolled a good length of thread, dropped the spool between Xander's legs and pinched the brunette's slippery bloody skin beneath the gouge. Quickly, but carefully, he inserted the needle. He glanced up and saw that Xander had passed out again.   


"Uh, Spike," Buffy said, frowning down at the blond vampire as she came up behind the couch, Willow and Tara beside her. "What are you doing?"   


"Working, so shut up," Spike snapped. The thick thread pulled the bottom edges of the wound together, but he had to wipe up the blood again before he could continue.   


Giles re-entered the room with rags and the first aid kit. He stopped at the head of the couch and cleared his throat. "Here are the, uh, things you requested, Spike."   


Spike grunted, but didn't stop what he was doing. Insert, push through, long pull, cross over... Insert, push through, long pull, cross over... Insert, push through, long pull, cross over...   


"Oh fuck me," Xander moaned again as he came back to consciousness.   


The vampire darted a quick glance up at him. "Later, luv."   


"Willow, look," Tara squeaked.   


"It's that black aura," Willow said with panic. "Guys, it's that black aura!"   


Xander tensed and grabbed Spike's forearm. "You brought me inside  _here_?!"   


"It's not like I had a soddin' choice!" Spike answered.   


Xander shoved Spike back, hard. The vampire smacked his head against the coffee table again at the strength behind the push. With a growl of pain, Xander was on his feet and heading for the door, the threaded needle hanging from his torso, the spool trailing behind him.   


Willow and Tara began chanting. Buffy pulled a knife from the sheath behind her back. Giles looked around frantically.   


Spike jumped up and rushed over to Xander just as the other man began to fall. Spike caught the brunette under his arms and hauled him up to his unsteady feet. "Where the hell are you going? You're hurt, you stupid pillock."   


" _May all in here see the dead_ ," Willow and Tara finished. Then, they gasped.   


Buffy, Giles, Willow and Tara stared as Xander Harris flickered in and out of sight before materializing completely in Spike's partial hold.   


"Xander?" Willow took a step towards the wounded brunette.   


"Don't come near me!" Xander barked. "Spike, let go  _now_."   


The vampire steadied him on his feet and let go. A crutch materialized under Xander's right arm and he leaned heavily against it. "Willow, undo whatever spell you just did. I'm not your friend."   


Spike shook off the startled unease he felt with that declaration. Willow had been Xander's best friend for fifteen years before he died. They'd been closer than brother and sister.   


"Um, Xander or- or dead person who looks like Xander," Buffy pointed at his chest, "I can see your organs."   


After that announcement, Spike had the pleasure of witnessing not only the mighty Slayer faint, but Willow and Tara, as well. Three little schoolmaids all in a row; thump, thump, and thump. 

 **Part Eleven**    
  
  
  
  
  
  


Xander decided to join the girls in the passing out competition within seconds of them dropping bonelessly to the floor.   


When he returned to consciousness, he found himself laying on the floor with his head in Spike's lap. The vampire was gently running his fingers through Xander's hair as he argued with Giles about something or other. It felt... it was... no one had ever...   


Xander's eyes popped open and he glared up at Spike. "I thought I told you to stay inside no matter what," he growled.   


A bare-chested Spike looked down at Xander with a quizzical expression on his face. "Hello to you, too, poopsy."   


"It's not a joke, Spike," Xander snapped. "The Choata could have been playing opossum, or whoever has it in for me could have been lying in wait. You could've been killed!"   


"What's that you say?" Spike mocked, stopping his petting to cup his ear. "Thank you for sewing my guts back into my body?"   


The loss of Spike's touch was... Xander couldn't label the feeling, and his angry scowl deepened. He quickly climbed to his feet, ignoring the pain wracking his body. He materialized a crutch beneath his arm, the other one having disappeared when he'd passed out. He was angry and male, but he wasn't stupid. Collapsing to the floor again like a ragdoll would not only hurt, it would cut his authority to shreds and right now he needed to be control.   


"Don't go  _anywhere_ , Spike," Xander ordered. He turned to the four in the living room, who were alternately looking at him with wonder and shock. Willow, Tara and Buffy each had a damp washrag in their hands, which served to make Xander's skin itch from the dried blood covering him. "Willow, I thought I told you to undo your spell."   


"I- I- I," Willow stammered, but Xander disregarded her.   


"Just do it," he said.   


The brunette hobbled into the kitchen, the crow on his back flapping awkwardly from his use of the crutch. He winced as his jeans rubbed against the wounds on his legs. "Giles, I'm going to use your shower," he told the Watcher, who was standing protectively by the girls.   


"Er... that's- that's fine," Giles said. "Do you need--"   


"No," Xander answered before Giles finished. The Dark Cavalier opened the refrigerator and smiled humorlessly when he saw three blood bags stacked on the shelf. Good old Giles, keeping amenities on hand for all his guests.   


Xander grabbed two of the blood bags, shut the refrigerator door, and started for the bathroom. He could feel his body wanting to shut down from blood loss -- he was adept at diagnosing and treating his own injuries -- and he didn't relish the idea of replenishing the blood in front of the others. They didn't need to know more than they already did.   


"Damn it, Spike," Xander cursed. Why hadn't that idiot vampire listened to him? Hadn't he made it clear to Spike that he was to stay inside? If Spike would have listened, Xander wouldn't be faced with mortals who weren't supposed to see him. Especially  _those_  mortals; the ones who had been friends with the mortal Xander Harris.   


In the bathroom, Xander shut and locked the door before hobbling to the tub. The crutch vanished as he carefully leaned down to turn on the taps. Scalding hot water began to fill the tub.   


Straightening, Xander hissed in pain and saw black spots dance in front of his eyes. He managed to grab hold of the edge of the sink before he fell. After he was sure he wasn't going to pass out again, he looked down at his stitched-up torso. Spike didn't do a half-bad job. He'd have an interesting scar for a century or so before it faded completely, but it was no worse than other injuries he'd had.   


Xander raised his head as he tossed the blood bags into the sink. He frowned at the mirror, ran a filthy hand through his matted hair, then gently touched his scratched face. Hell, he wished he still had a reflection. As Death would say, he probably looked a fright.   


"Speaking of fright," Xander murmured as he magically divested himself of his remaining clothing. How the heck did the Choata find them? Coincidence? Could the second Choata reported stolen have been in the area and simply latched onto their scent? Or was it more than that?   


Xander attached one of the blood bags to an IV pole he'd materialized. The transfusion needle went easily into his skin and he taped it into place. He released the drip stopper and watched as blood filled the clear tube from the blood bag to his arm. Luckily, like gas in a car, it didn't matter which blood type he used, as long as his tank was full.   


Was it possible that the Choata was the same one that'd attacked them before?, Xander wondered. The Choata couldn't move between realms without direct contact with a Collector, much like Xander had dragged Spike through the oak tree. Could someone have corralled the Choata and used the Hall of Doors to send it directly after them so quickly? It wouldn't be too difficult a task, as long as whoever knew approximately where Xander was and didn't mind risking being eaten by the death-hunter. But who the heck would chance that? And why?   


Xander wheeled the IV pole closer to the tub, shut off the taps, and carefully climbed into the water. The scalding heat penetrated his skin, sending zings of pleasure-pain throughout his system. The water was only deep enough to cover his legs, so that he wouldn't get his stitches wet. He grabbed the soap from the dish and began to scrub the itchy blood from his skin.   


He heard a key turn in the lock and his eyes shot to the door. He didn't need to guess who it was, the lack of knocking prior to picking the lock gave it away. "Spike, what do you want?" he growled as the door opened.   


Spike entered the bathroom, carrying a folded pile of clothing and wearing what was obviously Giles's oversized pullover shirt. The slight vampire swam in the dove grey garment, the long sleeves shoved up to his elbows, the hem of the shirt ending near his knees. It looked as though he'd just thrown it on and was uncaring of the fact that he resembled a ten-year-old in big brother's clothes.   


Xander felt his lips twitch and had to remind himself that he wasn't happy with the blond. So what if Spike looked adorable? The Dark Cavalier wasn't swayed by all things cute and kissable.   


"You knicked my blood," Spike answered, giving the IV pole an odd look as he set the clothes on the sink.   


"I left one in the fridge," Xander said.   


"Still hungry," Spike returned. He gestured to the pole. "I thought you were immortal?"   


"Immortal, yes," Xander replied. "Invincible, no."   


"Ah," Spike said. He found the second blood bag in the sink and picked it up. "But why didn't you just whip up your own blood bags, like you did the pole?"   


"Death cannot create life," Xander answered. "Blood comes from the living, so I can't materialize it." He studied Spike. "I know you didn't really come in here for the blood or to bring me clothes. What gives?"   


Spike pursed his lips and dropped the blood bag back into the sink. "The Monty Python crew were performing their version of the Spanish Inquisition, and it wasn't funny."   


"What did you tell them?" Xander asked sharply.   


"The truth," Spike said with a shrug. "You're their Xander, but you're now Grim Reaper, Junior, too."   


"Damn it, Spike." The words were more of a sigh than an angry curse. It didn't really matter what Spike told them. As soon as Xander was mostly clean and dressed, he was gone and, with luck, he wouldn't see any of the mortals again.   


The hot water in the tub was red from Xander's blood. He continued washing, carefully avoiding the stitches and ignoring the vampire who was now prowling around the small bathroom.   


When Xander felt he was as clean as he was going to get, he popped the drain, removed the transfusion needle from his arm, and gingerly climbed out of the tub. He grabbed for a towel... and ended up with an armful of Spike.   


"Wha--" Xander's startled question was swallowed by Spike's mouth. Cool hands were on the brunette's hips, holding him flush against Spike's lower body, but there was no pressure against his injured chest.   


The kiss was hard, wet, and involved lots of tongue. Xander's lips tingled under the assault, and a certain portion of his anatomy became jealous of his mouth.   


Spike finally broke away, leaving Xander breathing erratically. Dark brown eyes blinked open and stared with lustful-confusion at the vampire. "What was that for?"   


"Because I know once you're dressed, you're leaving and not coming back," Spike said, rolling his hips against Xander's budding erection. The vampire pouted prettily. "And you promised me sex."   


Xander groaned and gently bit that pout. Fingers tightened on his hips. Pulse, pulse went his cock. Still... "You're very persistent with this sex thing," he said. "It makes me wonder why."   


"I like you," Spike answered bluntly.   


Xander was stunned. Spike liked him. "Why?"   


"Why? What do you mean, why?" Spike scowled. "It's bad enough that I like you, now there has to be a reason?"   


Xander nodded. Spike liked him. "Why?" he repeated.   


Spike heaved a dramatic sigh. "If you must know, you're funny, clever, cruel, have a bloody great job, can kick some major arse, have a deliciously naughty relationship with Death, you don't roll over for everyone like you used to, you desire  _me_ , and so on and so forth, dot, dot, dot." He winked. "You're also naked, wet, and nummily bruised, so it could just be my dick talking."   


Spike was flirting, Xander could tell. Spike liked him. "There has to be a catch," he said.   


The blond rolled his eyes. "No catch, you insecure git."   


Spike was just horny. Spike liked him. "You're just horny," Xander said.   


"Of all the--," Spike sighed for real, "Yes, I'm horny, but for some idiotic reason I'd still like you even if we don't shag in the W.C."   


"Oh," Xander said. Oh. Spike liked him. What was he going to do about it? Spike liked him. Why couldn't he seem to move? Spike liked him. Why did those three words keep popping up in his mind? Spike liked him.   


"No one's ever liked me before," Xander whispered in astonishment. Mortals didn't like him because he had a tendency to kill them. Samuel had a case of hero worship. The other Collectors pretended to like him because he was Death's number one apprentice, or because they were being friendly, but no one had simply liked him for him.   


He didn't know what to do. Spike liked him.   


He felt funny. Spike liked him.   


Spike liked him.   


"You're not going to have a heart attack, are you?" Spike asked with a frown. "Can immortals have heart attacks?"   


Something stung Xander's eyes. He blinked rapidly, trying to make it go away. Instead, his vision blurred. What the hell was wrong with his eyes?!   


"Hey, pet, none of that." Spike's voice was soft, concerned, with a hint of frustration. Xander's damned blurry eyes prevented him from seeing the blond's expression. "Don't cry, luv," the vampire said. "I'm sure other people like you."   


Crying? The Dark Cavalier didn't cry.   


Xander was moved. Urged to sit. Cold toilet seat lid. Cool lips on his cheeks. Familiar-feeling fingers brushing back his wet hair. Shushing.   


"I don't cry," Xander croaked.   


"I know," Spike said, brushing his thumb across Xander's wet cheek. "You just have something in your eyes."   


Xander managed to focus on the vampire. "Why are you being so nice?"   


"I told you," Spike smiled sincerely, "I like you."   
  
  
  
  


**Part Twelve**    
  
  
  
  


Spike was out of his soddin' mind. "I told you, I like you." Any moment now the violins would start. Satan save him from dark-haired, dark-eyed beauties.   


The tears had stopped, but the vulnerability Xander projected was still at top form. Spike found it hard to believe that no one had told the brunette he was liked before now. The guy was 835-years old! Add to that the twenty years he was a normal human, and Spike figured someone had to have told him he was liked at some point.   


"Um, will you grab the other blood bag please?" Xander said in a shaky voice. He scrubbed his hand over his face.   


"Sure, mate." Spike's fingers lingered against Xander's ear before he did as asked. After handing the blood off, he stood back and watched as the brunette hooked it up to the IV pole and attached the line to his arm. A questioning lift of his brow was all it took for Xander to explain.   


"Immortal bodies can't produce new blood cells," Xander told him. "When we lose a lot of blood, we have to replace it. If we don't, we run the risk of becoming immobile husks, and then the only thing we're good for is decorating the Graveyard."   


"What if you don't have any blood bags handy?" Spike asked, truly interested.   


Xander sent him a sly grin. "Corpses work."   


Spike chuckled, leaning back against the sink. "So, you lot are nothing more than glorified vampires."   


"Basically," Xander agreed.   


"No wonder I like you."   


The pleased blush that crept over the brunette's cheeks sent a happy zing through Spike. Bloody hell, he was turning into such a poof. One little blush and he was practically dancing with joy.   


Spike cleared his throat, crossed his arms, and put on his "I'm evil, damn it," face. "You really are leaving when you're done, aren't you?" Oh yeah, pouting is real evil, and full marks for sounding like a sissy-girl.   


"Yes," Xander replied. He glanced down at his lap, frowned, and was suddenly wearing dark blue jeans and blood-spattered, scuffed old boots. "I'm betting that Willow won't have removed her spell, and I don't want to play  _Twenty Questions_  with the mortals."   


"'The mortals,'" Spike repeated. "You make it sound like the Sweetness-and-Light Brigade aren't your friends."   


"They're not."   


"What do you mean, they're not?" Spike stared at Xander like he'd grown a second head. "Xander, those twits in the other room cried for a month straight after you died."   


Xander cocked his head slightly. "And what did you do?"   


"Cheered," Spike lied.   


"Then why do you care if I say they're not my friends?"   


Spike pursed his lips. He was going to throttle the brunette. He hated when people asked questions like that. "Why do you care?" He didn't care, he just wanted to know the bloody answer! "Xander, they're the same people who were your friends before you died. Why wouldn't they still be your friends now?"   


"How many people have you killed, Spike?" Xander asked in return. "If you killed one a day that would be, what? Three hundred thousand? Four?"   


That many?, Spike thought gleefully. Ooh, look at him. Who's the Big Bad? "Probably more. I've helped in a few massacres, you know."   


Xander smiled. "I'm not surprised," he said. "Tell me, what does Buffy or Giles think about your record?"   


"Strict 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' policy there, pet," Spike replied. "The Slayer's got an itchy trigger finger as it is, and I happen to like being not dust."   


"On average, I end fifteen lives per day. Multiply that by number of years I've been Death's apprentice," Xander held out his hands, palms up, "and these hands have killed over four million mortals." He dropped his hands to his knees. "Now, tell me, what do you think Buffy or Giles will think about  _my_  record?"   


"I see your point," Spike conceded. He was the Big Bad Gnat compared to Xander Harris. He was also hornier than ever. Talk of death and destruction always gave him a hard on. "Right, then. Quick shag, and you're on your merry way."   


Xander looked at him a moment, then burst into completely girly giggles. He rocked on the toilet, holding his hand protectively over his injury. He thumped his feet on the tile floor.   


Spike knew he should be offended. The cheeky whelp seemed to laugh at him every time he brought up sex. He could get a complex if the brunette kept doing that. But, right then, Xander's laughter simply made him feel good.   


"Oh hell," Xander gasped. "I haven't... you... hee!... ow..."   


An off-kilter grin graced Spike's mouth as he watched Xander's laughing fit. If Xander wasn't careful, he was going to hurt himself again.   


Xander's mirth finally tapered off and he blinked rapidly against the tears coating his lashes. He wiped his cheek and glanced down at the wetness on his palm. His expression changed from laughter to wonder. "I'm crying again."   


"Happens when you laugh like that," Spike said. "It's normal."   


The brunette shook his head quickly. "I don't cry."   


Spike chuckled. "Hate to disprove you, luv, but you've done it twice now."   


Xander raised his head and his wide dark eyes met Spike's. "I never cry, Spike. Don't you get it? I never cry."   


"Ever? I find that hard to believe," Spike said. "Even  _I_  shed a tear or two every great once in a while."   


"I haven't cried in over 750 years." Xander looked at his damp palm again. "Not once."   


"Well, pet, that's not such a bad thing," Spike commented unsurely. He didn't know if Xander was upset or not. "Crying is quite nancyish. Plus, there's the snot, and, of course, you never have a tissue handy."   


Xander was silent. Then, barely audible, "I like it."   


He raised his eyes again and gave Spike a tremulous smile. "I like you, too."   


Spike never realized how four little words could affect him so much. His heart contracted and his throat tightened. His return smile was a bit trembly. "No one's ever liked me before, either," he confessed in a rough voice before he could stop himself.   


It was the truth, too. Drusilla had loved him when he was strong or while he took care of her, but she couldn't stand his "weaknesses." Angelus had seen him as Dru's toy; Darla put up with him because she had to; and a master vampire never got chummy with the minions. He didn't have any real friends. The closest he came were the Scooby Gang and... Harmony.   


Why was it he hadn't staked himself yet?   


Xander disconnected himself from the IV and crossed the bathroom to Spike. He stopped in front of the vampire, reached up, and brushed the backs of his fingers against the blond's cheek. "I'm lucky," he said quietly. "If you weren't my mortal bondmate, you never would have seen me, and I wouldn't have gotten to... to  _feel_."   


"There's still more of me that you haven't felt yet," Spike said gruffly, embarrassed by Xander's frankness.   


Xander chuckled softly. "Tomorrow, Earth time. I promise."   


"Why not tonight?" Spike batted his lashes, going for the comedy before he completely turned into a pansy. "Pwease?"   


"Because tonight," Xander gave him a peck on the lips, "I have," another kiss, "to make sure," and another, "the other Choata," and a fourth, "is caught."   


Spike heaved a sigh. "Fine. I understand."   


The hand brushing his cheek slid back around his neck and his mouth was captured in a very unchaste kiss. When Xander let go, Spike wondered if it were possible for a vampire to spontaneously combust from passion-fire.   


"Mmm," Xander hummed. "Sweet. Time won't pass quickly enough."   


Spike barely stopped the disappointed whimper coming from his throat when Xander stepped back. All aboard the poofter train!   


Xander glanced around and, as his eyes landed the IV pole and used blood bags, they vanished. A dark green tee-shirt materialized in his hands and he slipped it over his head. He grunted as he pulled it into place. "This should be fun."   


The brunette suddenly tapped Spike on the nose. "Stay with Giles until I come and get you," he instructed. "I don't want the other Choata to kill you before we've had a chance to play."   


"But they're gonna ask me questions," Spike whined.   


"And you're going to lie through your fangs when you answer," Xander said. He brushed a quick kiss on Spike's lips. "See you tomorrow."   


Spike quickly straightened as Xander walked through the closed bathroom door. The blond grabbed the doorknob, opened the door, and hurried out after him. Therefore, he was witness to Xander striding casually across the living room and through the closed front door without saying a single word to the others.   


"Spike!" Buffy's shrill voice erupted from couch. "Get out here now!"   


"Uh... no," Spike said, quickly returning to the bathroom. "I think I'll stay in here for awhile."   
  
  
  
  


**Part Thirteen**    
  
  
  
  


Xander was smiling as he stepped past Giles's door, he was smiling when he joined the other Collectors, he was smiling when they caught the Choata, he was smiling when they retrieved the Choata he'd decapitated, he was smiling on the walk back to the mansion. He winced when Death removed his stitches but started smiling again when he remembered who stitched him up to begin with.   


"Spike likes me," Xander said, smiling dopily, unable to contain the newfound feeling of happiness.   


Death let out a tiny sigh, his long fingers nimbly working the needle and thread as he expertly re-stitched Xander's wound. "Yes, Dearheart, so you told me."   


"I know," Xander said. "But it's worth repeating. Spike likes me."   


Hazel eyes rolled, but an indulgent smile curved Death's lips. "And what are you going to do about that little revelation?"   


"Have lots of sex."   


"I take it you don't mean with me," Death said dryly.   


"Sorry," Xander said, his dark eyes dancing with happiness. "But Spike likes me."   


The Last Lover chuckled as he tied off the thick, waterproof thread. "It sounds as though you like the mortal, too."   


Xander nodded emphatically. "He's cute and funny, and he likes me, and he's smart and naughty, and he likes me, and he thinks what I do is neat, oh, and he likes me." The brunette beamed.   


"Well, you have your fun." Death patted Xander's leg and stood, the needle and thread vanishing. "Just remember, he's mortal. He won't be alive forever."   


The smile was replaced by a stricken look. "You can't take him!"   


"When the Time comes, I can and I will," Death said, heading for the door.   


Xander scrambled from the bed as if something were propelling him. "No! Master, please," he grabbed Death's arm and held tight, his brown eyes pleading, "don't take him. Make him one of us."   


Death removed Xander's hand from his arm. "I've already asked. He said no."   


"But... but...," Xander's eyes filled with tears, "...but he likes me."   


"Oh, my sweet Darkling," Death pulled Xander into his embrace, "I know he likes you."   


There was a strange ripping pain in Xander's chest that had nothing to do with his injury. Unlike before, the tears that came this time hurt. He knew he was acting totally out of character, but he couldn't seem to stop. It was as if Spike had opened the lid on the jar labeled "Xander's feelings" and everything had come pouring out, leaving him vulnerable.   


Xander didn't like it. He didn't like not being in control. He wanted a refund on the whole feeling package. However, all he could do was bury his face against Death's shoulder and cry into the soft material of his black oxford shirt.   


"Hush, Boy," Death comforted softly, rubbing his hand over Xander's back. "Tears aren't necessary. Vampires live for a very long while, if they're careful. Shh..."   


The rapid flap of wings and the familiar coo of a pigeon finally slowed Xander's tears. He sniffed loudly, and he remembered what Spike had said about snot and lack of tissues. He laughed hollowly, pulling away from Death and wiping his nose with the back of his hand.   


"Okay, Darkling?" Death asked with concern.   


Xander nodded and turned away. He picked up his tee-shirt from the end of the bed and put it on, wincing as he did. He could feel Death's eyes on him as he struggled to regain control.   


"You can go if you want," Xander said in a tear-roughened voice, his back still to his Master. "I'm fine."   


"Very well," Death said. "I have work to do at the Academy. You can find me there if you need me."   


Xander nodded again, but didn't turn. After a moment, he heard the bedroom door click shut.   


The brunette's shoulders slumped, and he rubbed his moist eyes. He hadn't realized that liking someone, or having someone like him, hurt so much. He wanted to go back to being the uncaring Dark Cavalier. This feeling thing sucked. It was making him act like such a... a... a  _mortal_.   


Rusty cooed again and ruffled her feathers. Xander glanced over at her and sighed unhappily. "Hi, Rusty. Another day, another damn list, huh?"   


Xander dug his notebook and pen out of the jeans he'd been wearing when he'd fought the Choata. He tossed both on the bed and went over to the window to untie the scroll from Rusty's leg.   


The tiny blue ribbon that tied the scroll to Rusty looked familiar. As the bird flew off, Xander studied the ribbon. The light abruptly went on, and he quickly left the bedroom.   


"Mystery solved," Xander commented to himself, matching the blue ribbon to the one still sitting on the hall table where he'd put it the other day. Normally, he pitched the ribbons in the trash with the scrolls after he'd transferred the names to his notebook. He wondered how this one had gotten into the hallway.   


Xander grinned as he scooped up the ribbon and returned to the bedroom. The one he'd found in the hall must've been trying to make its escape. It probably had a family of ribbonlings it wanted to get back to, or maybe a frilly pink ribbon mate.   


A picture of Spike giving him a "you are weird" look popped into Xander's brain. A sad smile replaced his grin, but then the Spike in his head suddenly had a hairful of blue ribbons tied into bows and the immortal laughed out loud.   


Instead of tossing the two ribbons into the garbage can, he pocketed them before starting to transfer the ten names from the scroll to his notebook.   


*****   


Collectors could enter any structure through a doorway, even if the door itself was shut, locked, electrified and alarmed. It was a handy trick when the mortal supposed to die refused to come out of the house. It was also a benefit when fetching a soon-to-be lover ordered to stay inside no matter what.   


The sun had set a half hour before, and Xander had finally finished Collecting the mortals on his list. A few of them had been stubborn, hiding from him and dragging out his workday. He hadn't thought he'd ever finish.   


Anticipation had stoked Xander's libido, and he was practically salivating at the thought of getting Spike naked and pliant beneath him. The horrid feelings from earlier had been buried deep, never to be examined again if he had anything to say about it.   


Xander skipped walking down the steps to Giles's courtyard, instead leaping the distance from the top to the stone picnic table. He tapped a quick time-step on the hard surface, his boots thumping rhythmically, then flipped off the end of the table like a gymnast.   


A hungry smile graced Xander's lips as he strode to Giles's condo and through the closed door. A glass shattered, a curse was exclaimed, and a female squeaked at his sudden appearance. He sighed. "Willow."   


The redhead at the desk blushed. "Sorry," she said weakly.   


Xander gave her a hard glare, but he was in too good of a mood to think of a suitable punishment. His eyes flitted around the room, looking for his evening's entertainment. Willow, Tara, Giles, Buffy and Riley. "Where's Spike?"   


"Right here, mate," Spike said, coming down the stairs from the loft, dressed in familiar black jeans and a tee-shirt.   


Xander's hungry grin returned and his eyes glittered with wicked intent. "Have you been good?"   


Spike stopped in front of Xander and winked. "Not even close."   


"Giles," Buffy hissed.   


Giles cleared his throat. "Er, X-Xander--"   


"Xander's dead," Xander interrupted, his eyes never leaving Spike's sparkling blue gaze. "He's been Gone for close to two Earth years, and he won't be coming back. Remember the mortal fondly, but know that the immortal version isn't someone you'd like."   
  


"Pretty speech, pet," Spike commented. "Can we go now?"   
  


"Anxious, my lickable one?" Xander teased with a smirk.   
  


Spike's answering grin was devilish and he spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. "Anxious to get your bollocks to the wind and plunder that delightful body of yours."   
  


"Going now," Xander said quickly. He latched onto Spike's arm, opened the door, and dragged the vampire out into the night.   
  


Spike laughed heartily at the protests coming from Giles's through the open door. They'd be all over him for more answers when he resurfaced, and he looked forward to describing in great detail what he and Xander were about to do. Perhaps he'd turn the Witches' faces permanently red.   
  


"Spike, do you have a home, or am I just going to throw you down in the middle of the street?" Xander asked, his face alight with hungry anticipation and happiness.   
  


"I still have my crypt," Spike replied, taking the lead. "Complete with lock on the door and comfy bed."   
  


The blond suddenly spun around, grabbed Xander by his shirt and backed him up against the yellow wall of the condominium across the street from Giles's. The overhanging trees filtered the streetlight, casting them in partial darkness.   
  


"But," Spike continued huskily, "I can't wait that long."   
  


Xander put his hands on Spike's hips and yanked the blond against him. Their denim-covered bulges ground together as the immortal rotated his pelvis. "Good," he rumbled. "Me, neither."   
  


Spike's nostrils flared in excitement a second before he dragged Xander into a voracious kiss. Wet and sloppy, their mouths and tongues met in a frenzied battle of lust. Blunt teeth cracked against each other. Unconscious moans and whimpers accompanied harsh panting. The sounds of the night -- the rest of the world itself -- disappeared completely.   
  


Xander broke away and hauled Spike's black tee over his head. His mouth latched onto a light-colored nipple, tugging at the pebbled peak. Hands ran down his back and pulled at the material of his own tee, untucking it from his blue jeans. He let Spike remove the obstructing garment before the brunette attacked the other nipple.   
  


Inhumanly strong fingers plunged into Xander's hair, and he was yanked upright and into another ravenous kiss. He allowed Spike free access to his mouth as he fumbled with the vampire's belt buckle and fastenings on his jeans.   
  


Xander shoved the denim down immediately upon success, and he grabbed the taut buttocks exposed. His fingers bruised the pale skin as he roughly massaged the muscular globes.   
  


Spike tore his mouth away from Xander's, tugged at the other man's waistband, and snarled, "Off."   
  


Xander wasted no time in complying. In a blink, the rest of their clothing vanished, and the brunette had Spike pressed face first against the wall. Xander kissed, licked and nipped at the vampire's spine, starting from the nape of his neck and moving lower. Spike moaned and arched under Xander's assault, shivering from the warmth against his cool skin.   
  


Xander dropped to his knees and feasted his feverish gaze on the smooth alabaster body before him. Without hesitation, he parted the taut buttocks and ran his tongue along exposed sensitive skin. Spike's nails scraped against the wall when Xander's tongue darted into the rosy hole and the vampire made a throaty sound of want.   
  


The brunette gave him what he wanted and more. "Aaah, fuck, Xander," Spike gasped, pushing back against the tongue invading him. The rough wall scratched him as he uncontrollably rolled his forehead against it, fighting against the searing desire to come.   
  


The tongue abruptly disappeared to be immediately replaced with the knobby end of Xander's cock. Spike made himself relax, but it didn't matter because Xander slid easily inside of him, bringing him the burning pleasure and fullness he ached for.   
  


"Spike," Xander groaned, pressing himself firmly into the blond. "Oh hell, _Spike_."   
  


Xander began to move, and the world could have fallen down around them without either noticing. Xander did not hesitate to wrap his hand around Spike's body and grasp the vampire's swollen length. With a firm fist, the brunette stroked in opposition to his thrusts, eliciting breathy mewls of pleasure from Spike.   
  


Sex was well and good and fun, but it had never felt like this, Xander thought, his eyes rolling beneath closed lids as the velvety tightness repeatedly grasped his shaft. He felt a connection with Spike that was more than just sexual, maybe even more than just liking him. It felt as though he'd been waiting 840 years for this very moment.   
  


"Shit, Xander, I'm going to come," Spike rasped, writhing against Xander. Sparks danced behind the blond's eyelids, and he couldn't seem to catch the breath he supposedly didn't need. White-hot pressure pooled low in his belly, and his sac tightened as his body prepared to explode.   
  


Spike's words sent Xander careening off the precipice into a whirlwind of intense pleasure. He heard a roar, but couldn't tell if it came from the vampire or himself. The body in front of him jerked and spasmed, and his cock felt as if it was being squeezed by a vice. A grey haziness swarmed around him, and he was falling... falling... falling...   
  


At first, Xander thought the Choata had returned, and he rolled up to the balls of his feet, searching the semi-darkness for the beast. It took him a moment to realize that the low rumble was coming from the vampire curled on the ground like a lithe albino cat.   
  


Xander's lips twitched and he relaxed his guard. He knelt beside the prone mortal and ran his fingers through the blond's hair. The sound increased in volume and pitch. Bright blue eyes blinked open and a sated smile curved pale pink lips.   
  


The brunette tilted his head and studied Spike for a moment. His heart expanded in his chest and he burst into a delighted laugh.   
  


"You laugh at me whenever I speak about sex, and now you're laughin' at me after we've had sex," Spike murmured after his purr tapered off. "My ego has been effectively squashed."   
  


"I _like_ you, Spike," Xander said emphatically, tracing his finger along the shell of Spike's ear.   
  


A beautiful, purely happy smile spread slowly across Spike's face, lighting up his features and creasing the corners of his eyes. "I like you, too, luv."   
  


Xander leaned forward and caught that smile, reveling in the feel of Spike's lips against his. His body tingled all over, an ecstatic-hyper-want-more-sex tingle that ran from his head to his feet.   
  


His mouth lingered on Spike's when he reluctantly broke the kiss. Opening his eyes, he focused on a magickally re-clothed blond and gave him a salacious grin. "Let's go try out that bed of yours."   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Part Fourteen**   
  


  
  


It was purely by chance that Xander glanced behind them. He had been so involved in listening to Spike that he'd allowed his guard to drop completely. The blue ribbon he had surreptitiously tied into the vampire's hair had kept a humorous hold on his attention on their trek to Spike's crypt. But by dropping his guard, he'd endangered himself... and Spike.   
  


The stake traveled end over end at high speed, heading directly for the blond vampire. With a screamed " _NO!_ ", Xander whipped around and caught the stake in his palm. The sharply pointed wood pierced his skin and lodged halfway into his hand, centimeters from Spike's back.   
  


Spike spun around and dropped into a defensive stance. The scent of Xander's blood hit his nose, but he ignored it.   
  


"Ow, damn it!" A slight wind stirred as Xander yanked the stake out of his hand and gripped the bloody object tightly. He searched the night for whoever had thrown it, planning on shoving it into that person's throat to see how they liked being staked. If it turned out to be Buffy, he'd be _really_ mad.

"Are you protecting this mortal, Xander?"   
  


Xander started as Death emerged from the shadows where the stake had come from, joining them in the street. "Of course I'm protecting him," the brunette said with confusion.   
  


"I hadn't wanted to believe it...," Death trailed off and gave Xander a disheartened look. "I'm disappointed in you, Darkling."   
  


"What?" Xander was stunned. "Why?"   
  


"I know you like him, but you know the Rules, my Dark Cavalier," Death said. "When a mortal's Time has come to an end, he must be Collected, no matter what your feelings are."   
  


"I know the Rules," Xander said, confusion returning. He tucked the stake into the waistband of his jeans.   
  


"Then I gather you're simply waiting until closer to the deadline to Collect Spike?"   
  


" _What?_ " Dark eyes widened in shock, and Xander quickly grabbed the notebook from his back pocket. He flipped it open to the last written page and scanned the list of names. His pounding heart began to calm. There were only ten names, all crossed off, just as he'd thought. "Spike's not on the list," he said.   
  


"List?" Spike looked very concerned. "The to-be-killed list?"   
  


Death shook his head sadly, removed a small scroll from his pocket and unrolled it. "This is your Collection list for today. It bears your watermark..."   
  


Xander snatched the scroll from Death's hand. Each of the Collectors had their own watermarked scrolls to prevent tampering of the lists. The names on the lists were also handwritten by an individual scribe assigned to each apprentice to discourage forgery.   
  


The Dark Cavalier's hand began to tremble. The watermark was definitely his, and the names on the dated list matched the names in his notebook... all except for the last one.   
  


_No. 11 -- Spike._   
  


"No," Xander shook his head rapidly, "this isn't my list. This is a forgery."   
  


"Xander--"   
  


"No!" Xander thrust the scroll and his notebook at Death. "I copy the names into my notebook after I receive the list, you know that! This is a forgery!"   
  


Death glanced between the two, but the sad expression remained on his face. "I am sorry, Darkling, but--"   
  


"Damn it!" Xander interrupted with a shout, the wind whipping through his shaggy hair. "It's a setup, don't you see?! Being assigned to my mortal homeplace, the Choata... the ribbon!" The immortal snatched the tiny blue bow from Spike's head, making the vampire yelp when his hair was torn out. "I found a ribbon in the hallway outside my bedroom. I always throw them in the trash can _with the scrolls_. Someone must've dropped it when they stole one of the lists from the garbage!"   
  


"Enough of this nonsense," Death snapped, his jaw tight. "You have until midnight, Earth time, to Collect the mortal known as Spike. Do not disappoint me, Boy. You will not like the outcome if you do."   
  


Xander stared at Death's back in stunned disbelief as the Master Over Life strode angrily away. The small scroll and blue notebook lay on the ground where Death had dropped them, taunting the Dark Cavalier.   
  


"Xander?" Spike said, tentatively touching the brunette on the shoulder.   
  


Xander jerked away, bent down and snatched up the scroll and notebook. He then grabbed Spike by the upper arm and forcefully dragged him toward the closest oak tree.   
  


"Oi!" Spike exclaimed in protest.   
  


"Shut up," Xander growled. Into the oak tree, a quick turn-around, and they were back outside of Giles's condo. The immortal did not release his punishing grip on Spike's arm as he pulled the vampire across the street and down into the courtyard.   
  


At Giles's door, Xander suddenly spun Spike around and slammed him against the hard wood. He smashed his mouth down upon Spike's, kissing the blond roughly. The wind kicked up again, flicking the leaves in the trees and ruffling the back of Xander's hair.   
  


Xander broke the kiss and stared hard into confused blue eyes. "I hate you," he stated harshly.   
  


Spike blinked. "What?"   
  


"I wish you never saw me," Xander went on in a rough tone. "I wish I could kill you without a second thought."   
  


Xander shoved away from Spike and started out of the courtyard. Spike took two steps forward, hurt hidden under a cold mask. "So, that's it?" the vampire said angrily. "Thanks for the fuck, but now I have to kill you?"   
  


"You should be used to it; isn't that what vampires do?" Xander called over his shoulder as he climbed the steps.   
  


"You forgot lying," Spike sneered. "Like when I said I liked you."   
  


Xander's head whipped around and he pinned the blond with an icy glare. "Do you think I wanted you to like me?"   
  


Neither of the men noticed that Giles's door had opened. Spike advanced closer to Xander, stopping near the stone picnic table. "I think your blubbering like a baby when I said it answers that question," the blond taunted.   
  


Faster than the eye could see, Xander grabbed the stake from the waistband of his jeans, spun around, and threw it. The wood splintered, its cracking hidden under the whistling of the wind, as it imbedded into the stone surface of the picnic table next to where Spike stood.   
  


"I hate you!" Xander spat. "You've made me feel things that I haven't felt in over seven hundred and fifty-fucking-years!" He stalked down the stairs, each step punctuated with an angry sentence. "I am the Dark Cavalier; I am Death's Boy; I've killed over four million mortals and I didn't care about a single one!"   
  


The trees in the area bowed from the wind. Window rattled. Dirt, fallen leaves, and garbage lifted and swirled in the air. The five in the open doorway stared on with horrid fascination.   
  


Xander stopped directly in front of Spike, his dark eyes flashing with otherwordly sparks of light. His voice was cold as he continued. "I came to Sunnydale to do my job, just like I've done it in countless other realms. I didn't come here to fall in love with you."   
  


"Yeah, well, I didn't plan to fall in love with you, either," Spike snapped back.   
  


The violent wind abruptly stopped. The instant silence was shocking. When Xander next spoke, his voice seemed overly loud in the sudden quiet.   
  


"I can't kill you, Spike," he said in a jagged whisper. "At midnight, I will trade my eternal death for yours. Congratulations, you've beaten Death. Very few can say the same."   
  


Spike opened his mouth, closed it, wrapped his hand behind Xander's neck and kissed him hard. Then, he pressed his forehead against Xander's and looked deep into his eyes. "No one's dying tonight, pet," the vampire said roughly. "Not you, not me, not even the stupid Slayer, unless I can help."   
  


"Hey!" came from the direction of Giles's door.   
  


Xander smiled tremulously, his dark eyes filled with tears, and Spike pressed another quick kiss to his lips before releasing him. "Now," the blond said. "Didn't you say something about a forgery?"   
  


"Yeah," Xander cleared the knot in his throat and dashed away his tears, "I swear that your name wasn't on the list from Rusty."   
  


"Could this Rusty bloke have changed it?" Spike asked, surreptitiously wiping at his own cheeks.

The brunette snickered. "It'd be kind of hard to do, considering she's a homing pigeon."   
  


"Right," Spike said, glancing towards their audience. "It's not the bird, and I'm not the idiot who suggested it was." He focused on Willow. "How 'bout this, luv: first we prove the forgery, then we concentrate on the whodunit."   
  


Xander removed the scroll from his pocket, unrolled it, and studied number eleven with a troubled frown. "How? All the writing matches."   
  


"Red, I know you're listening," Spike called over to the Witch.   
  


"Um...," Willow hesitantly stepped outside, wringing her hands, "...well, I could, uh, you know, scan it into the computer and run it through a handwriting analysis program. I don't have one, but I can probably find it on the 'Net. That is, if you want me to." Xander looked over at her, and she back-peddled nervously. "Or-or not. I don't have to help. It was a dumb idea, anyway."   
  


"No, it's good," Xander corrected, returning his focus to the scroll. "It's a very good idea."   
  


Xander cleared his throat again, straightened to his full height, and turned to the group at the door. "My name is Xander Harris. I am Death's Dark Cavalier. I am in love with my mortal bondmate, and I would appreciate any assistance in preventing his demise."   
  


There was a small squeak from his left, and he shot Spike a quizzical look. Spike hooked his hands over his belt, put on his "I'm evil, damn it," face, and said, in a deeper-than-normal voice, "Swallowed a mouse."   
  


*****   
  


Spike watched Xander from his vantage point in Giles's kitchen. The brunette was crouched in front of the over-packed bookcase, running his fingers along the book spines. Earlier, he'd prowled around the living room, picking up and examining items curiously. He wouldn't allow anyone to touch him, and his answers to questions were vague.   
  


Spike was uncomfortably aware that everyone was uncomfortably aware of the dead man in the living room. After Xander's initial explanation of who and what he was, the Slayer and her ex-military beau had surreptitiously taken up positions where they could easily attack the immortal or defend their friends. Spike wasn't very happy about the fact that they ignored him completely. Another chunk was viciously cut from his ego when he realized the Fighters of Evil didn't think him to be a threat at all.   
  


"Giles," Xander said, pulling a slim green book from the shelf. "Uj et wruiths olm Neth?"   
  


Giles, who was sitting at the counter opposite Spike, blinked rapidly behind his glasses and stammered, "P-Pardon?"   
  


"I asked if you spoke Neth," Xander started to page through the book, "but I guess you don't."   
  


"You speak Neth?" Giles asked in amazement.   
  


"I speak everything," he replied absently.   
  


Interested, Spike dug through his brain for an obscure demon dialect he'd learned. "Aaroush Husbwif?"   
  


"Januu apri ita repassesh eht litnu lanoititdda, noishaasf emocni."   
  


Pause.   
  


"Spike, are you _blushing?_ "   
  


"No," Spike scowled, despite his pink-tinged cheeks. Why couldn't they be ignoring him _now_?   
  


Xander began to laugh, causing all eyes to swing back to him. The rich, warm sound rolled through the living room, stunning everyone, except for the vampire, because it'd been so long since they'd heard that laugh. Spike simply glared at the brunette over the cut-out counter.   
  


After putting the book back on the shelf, Xander straightened and crossed to the kitchen, disregarding the way Buffy and Riley tensed when he did so. Dark brown eyes twinkled in merriment as he stopped in front of the pouting peroxide-blond vampire. Leaning closer, Xander whispered, "Ecnedive ni yrammus ith daip dah rettaam."   
  


The pink tinge darkened. Spike shifted, crossed his arms over his chest, and glanced over at the others, who were watching with unabashed interest. "Cut it out, pillock."   
  


"Tush ni sih," Xander raised his hand and brushed his thumb against Spike's lower lip, "a redro emitaah eht otereh."   
  


"Yeah, well, it's not reciprocated," Spike grumbled uncomfortably. He pointedly ignored the gushy feeling that had taken root in the center of his chest. So what if Xander spouted flowery nonsense about beautiful vampires that made him happy? Spike was neither beautiful nor happy-making. He was evil; a bad, bad man. Grr, hiss, spit.   
  


"Tush ni sih," Xander repeated softly. ~ _You're so beautiful_.~   
  


"Oh! It's done," Willow announced from her seat in front of the computer. Giles moved from his spot at the counter to examine the computer screen.   
  


"Is it a forgery?" Buffy asked, exchanging a quick glance with Riley before they both looked expectantly at the hacker.   
  


"It's a great big phoney-baloney," Willow confirmed. She pointed to the screen, and Giles and Tara leaned closer. "See here, the slant is off, indicating it wasn't written at the same time as the other names. And this letter, the 'e', it's too stiff. A ruler was used to draw a perfectly straight cross-line."   
  


"Very good, Willow," Giles praised. He straightened and turned to the kitchen. "Now that we know it's a forgery...," his words trailed off, catching the gang's attention.   
  


Buffy, Willow, Riley and Tara all looked over the counter and into the kitchen. Xander and Spike were clinched in a lover's embrace, their mouths moving hungrily against one another's. Spike was on his toes, his hands buried in Xander's thick hair. Xander's arms were around Spike's lean body, his hands spanning the vampire's ass and holding the blond firmly against him.   
  


Giles cleared his throat loudly. "Shall I book the kitchen for you two overnight, or only charge by the hour?"   
  


Spike dragged his mouth from Xander's, breathing heavily, albeit unnecessarily. His face was flaming again, and Xander refused to release his indecent hold, increasing the vampire's embarrassment further. "Xander," he begged quietly. What was it about the immortal that turned him into a flustery, blushing virgin?   
  


Xander dropped a kiss on Spike's nose. "You're too cute."   
  


Oh no, Spike's hard-as-nails reputation wasn't ruined forever after that. Not at all.   
  


Spike glanced over the cut-out counter to see the Slayer giving him a sappy, all-too-female look. The two Witches were equally as mushy-looking. Giles was shaking his head in his normal "sigh, children" way. Riley wore a smirk that rivaled one of Angelus's smirks.   
  


Midnight was too long to wait for death.   
  


"Wills, forgery, right on," Xander said, sliding around behind the vampire to rest his chin on Spike's shoulder, his hands hooked over Spike's belt buckle. "Can you, uh, print that?"   
  


"Sure," Willow agreed.   
  


"So wh-what's next?" Tara asked from beside her girlfriend.   
  


"Now we try to figure out who the hell the forger is," Xander replied. "Right, Spike?"   
  


Hellmouth? Yoo-hoo, apocalypse? Anytime now, Spike was mentally pleading, due to Xander's let's-turn-Spike-into-a-girl position. What was worse than the embarrassment he felt over the position was the fact that he _liked_ having Xander hold him like this. He glanced down at his shirt, wondering if there was a giant 'P' on the front, for 'Poof.'   
  


A tongue flicked his ear. Spike squeaked. Colored _again_. 'Poof' to the tune of _Spam_ \-- his new theme song -- started revolving through his brain. "What?" he snarled in a manly fashion.   
  


Xander chuckled, the vibration against Spike's back sending shivers down his spine. "We're to the whodunit part, Spike. Pay attention."   
  


"It's hard to pay attention with your lover plastered to your back like a bloody cheap coat," Spike bitched.   
  


"Oh look, a lover's quarrel," Buffy said, grinning evilly at Spike. "How cute."   
  


"Bite me, Slayer," Spike said.   
  


"Nuh-uh-uh," Xander tisked, releasing Spike. He started back into the living room. "The only one who gets to bite Spike is me. I'm possessive like that."   
  


Spike dropped his head and groaned as Buffy and Riley snickered. He was never going to live this night down. Never, never, never. And it was all Xander and his silver cock-piercing's fault... which Spike would have to tell Xander to leave in the next time they shagged.   
  


Xander accepted the printout from Willow with a "Thank you" and a smile. He walked over to the couch and perched on the arm, nibbling his lower lip as he studied the paper.   
  


Spike pulled himself out of Humiliation Hell and ventured into the living room. They had a whodunit to solve before Xander suffered for an eternity -- something Spike definitely wanted to prevent.   
  


Because, despite his emasculation in front of the others, he was head-over-effin'-heels in love with Xander Harris.   
  


It wasn't that surprising of a revelation to Spike. When he fell in love, he always fell hard, fast, and completely. Of course, the downside was, when his heart was broken, his entire world came tumbling down, and it took a long time to rebuild it.   
  


Spike dropped down onto the couch beside Xander, snatching the paper from the brunette. "Start with the simple questions first, Watson," the vampire said. "Who would like to see me dust?"   
  


"Ooh! Ooh!" Buffy raised her hand and waved it like an enthusiastic student. "I would! I would!"   
  


Spike flicked her off.   
  


"I don't think the forger was targeting you," Xander said, half-leaning onto the back of the couch behind Spike. He began to card his fingers through the peroxide-blond's hair.   
  


Spike started to purr, noticed what he was doing, shifted and cleared his throat. "Er... my name's on the soddin' list," he pointed out. "I'd say that paints a big bulls-eye on my arse."   
  


"Who do you think it'd hurt worse if you died?" Xander inquired softly. "You, or the guy who loves you?"   
  


"Xander's right," Willow piped up. "When the bad guys want to really, really hurt Buffy, they go after Angel." Mortification crossed her face. "And Riley! And anyone else she loves... or has loved... or even will love in the future..."   
  


Buffy glared at the redhead. "Although _someone's_ now off that list."   
  


"Don't worry, Willow," Riley spoke up, only slightly stiffer than usual. "I know what you meant."   
  


"I believe the next step would be to narrow down the list of those who wish to hurt you, Xander," Giles said, returning to the subject at hand. "This person would have to have a- a strong anger towards you to go as far as to add Spike's name to your, er..."   
  


"Collections list," Xander supplied. "Still, it could be anyone."   
  


"No, it couldn't," Tara countered. She ducked her head when everyone looked at her. "It- it could only be someone who, um, kn- knows who Spike is."   
  


"She's right," Spike said, desperately trying not to rub his head against Xander's hand like a bleedin' cat. "Far as we know, that Anthony bloke didn't spread the news about me."   
  


Xander's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Anthony Hodgkins."   
  


"That annoying git, Samuel, knows who I am, too," Spike said. "Oh, and Death."   
  


"Do you really think Xander's own boss would want to hurt him?" Willow asked.   
  


"If he was testing me," Xander answered. He twined a lock of blond hair around his finger. "But it doesn't fit with how the Big Kahuna acted when I told him about being assigned to Sunnydale, or with the Choata."   
  


"What about jealousy?" Riley suggested, so obviously _not_ glancing at Buffy. "People have been known to do some crazy things when they're jealous."   
  


"Jealous?" Xander laughed. "Do you know how hard it is to be Death's number one apprentice? My Master is a perfectionist, which means I have to be even _more_ perfect." He shook his head. "I wouldn't wish anyone into my place. It's only been in the last two hundred years that Death has treated me more like a companion, rather than a whipping boy."   
  


Xander began petting Spike again, his eyes growing distant. "I remember wishing that I'd said 'no' during the first fifty years of immortality. Gods, it was so hard trying to learn everything he wanted me to learn, and you know I wasn't ever any good at school, Wills."   
  


"You've always been smart, Xander," Willow countered quietly.   
  


The brunette laughed sardonically a second time. "If that'd been the case, I probably wouldn't have gotten my ass beat so much."   
  


A deep, rumbling growl floated up from the couch. This time, Xander's laugh was one of amusement, and he leaned forward and kissed the top of Spike's head. "Sweet mortal. My ass is just for you, now."   
  


"Eew, TMI, TMI," Buffy shuddered. "Waaaaay Too Much Information."   
  


Xander sent her a lopsided grin. "Anyway, the jealousy idea is a good one. Anthony and I have been at each other's throats since we met."   
  


"So you've decided it's him?" Spike asked.   
  


Xander nodded. "He's got the motive, the means, and he knows who you are. I wouldn't put it past him to have used Samuel's friendship with me to get into the mansion, or to learn where I spent my mortal life."   
  


"What about this Samuel guy himself?" Willow said. "On _A &E_, it's always the person least suspected that's the culprit."   
  


"Too obvious," Xander discounted. "At most, I'd say Samuel's helping Anthony, because of how buddy-buddy they are."   
  


"It seems as though you have a prime suspect, as well as proof of foul play," Giles said. "What is your next step?"   
  


"I'm going to have sex with Spike, and then I'm going to call Anthony out," Xander replied.   
  


Spike didn't fight the grin caused by the brunette's bluntness. He tilted his head back to look at Xander. "I love you."   
  


"Of course you do," Xander said with a wink. He lightly tugged at Spike's hair before he stood. "Well, guys, it's been...," he thought for a moment, and a true smile blossomed on his face, "...actually not that bad, to see you again. When it's your Time, I'll see if I can get Death to offer you a job."   
  


The brunette took Spike's hand after the vampire had stood. "I'll bring the Bleached One back after I screw him stupid... er."   
  


"Very funny, mate," Spike said dryly.   
  


"I thought so," Xander said. "Bye all."   
  


"Yeah, uh, bye," Spike called over his shoulder as he followed Xander out the door.   
  


Before the door closed, the blond vampire poked his head back inside. "Oh, and fetch me some blood and a pack of smokes before I get back. I have a feeling I'm going to need 'em." 

**Part Fifteen**   
  
  
  
  
  


Caressing, gliding. Soft touches. In and out. Gentle moans and tender sighs. Breathy words, pleasure-filled hisses. "Yessss...", "...please, pet...", "...love you..." Teasing. Tasting. Light laughter, deep kisses.   
  


Fingers entwined, arms pinned high above a mussed blond head. Face to face, body to body, sated flesh to sated flesh. Chocolate eyes melting beneath a cerulean gaze.   
  


"How can I love you so much?" Xander asked softly. "I've only been with you for a single Earth day, and I can't imagine what forever would be like without you."   
  


Bashful smile. Faint rosy blush. Gruff reply: "You've just succeeded in turning this demon into a big pile of mush. My reputation will never be the same."   
  


"Funny," Xander circled his hips, "you feel pretty solid to me."   
  


"Lovely," Spike sighed. "I'm shaggin' a bloody comedian. A rotten one, at that."   
  


Xander grinned, dropped a quick peck on Spike's well-kissed lips, and moved off the vampire. He propped himself on his side, his head resting against his hand. "So...," he prompted.   
  


"So why do you love me... aside from the obvious, right?" Spike teased, gesturing down at his nude body.   
  


The brunette snorted indelicately, earning a rude salute from his bedmate. Spike tucked one arm behind his head and let his gaze wander along the cracked ceiling of the crypt as he searched for a real answer to Xander's question. Spike's other hand lay on his stomach, and the immortal was lightly outlining his fingers. It tickled, but he wasn't about to say so. He'd been enough of a nancy for one evening, thank you very much.   
  


A hundred candles had been lit in the dim tomb where Spike made his home, and the pale golden glow made the place actually seem more romantic, rather than just a hovel where an undead guy roomed with a dead girl in a stone coffin. The double bed they were laying on had been a gift from Harmony years ago when the blond airhead had decided Spike would make a good boyfriend. Spike had only put up with her because she was a pretty decent lay. That relationship lasted about six months. Now, she was in France or some other European country that she'd never stopped yammering on about.   
  


"Love is interesting, pet," Spike began, a smile curving his pale pink lips. "It's what makes the effin' world go round, if you believe the namby-pamby sentimentalists and Hallmark writers."   
  


He glanced over at Xander. "Thing is, love doesn't hit everyone the same way. For some, it's instant -- love at first sight, or sniff, or wiggle, depending on the species. For others, it's a slow awareness -- one day, you're sitting around shootin' the shit with your friend or lover, and you come to realize that your whole universe is centered around just wanting to see him or her smile."   
  


Xander smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "Were you a poet in a past life, or one of those namby-pamby Hallmark writers?"   
  


"No," Spike said quickly, looking away and once again cursing the fact that vampires could blush. "I may've ate a few poets, but there's no way in hell I was one. No bloody way. Not me. Not at all."   
  


A dark brow rose. "Trying to convince yourself, or me?"   
  


Spike scowled. "Fuck off."   
  


"Can't. Limp," Xander teased. He tapped Spike's stomach above the vampire's hand. "And you still haven't answered my question. Why the heck do I love you so much?"   
  


"Because you're touched in the head," Spike replied. Xander rolled his eyes, and the blond shrugged. "You can't control who you love, ducks. It's an emotion that controls you. The only thing you can do is go with the flow, and hope that the pillock you're in love with loves you back."   
  


"Do you?"   
  


Spike frowned at the ceiling. "Do I what?"   
  


"Love me back?" Xander asked with a nervous quietness.   
  


The blond turned to Xander and saw vulnerability etched on the immortal's normally stoic features. Spike captured the hand on his stomach, entwining their fingers, and smiled tenderly. "Yes, this pillock that you're in love with loves you back. And I can't see living forever without you around to make my unlife interesting."   
  


Xander inhaled a slow, shaky breath, and he blinked rapidly against the tears forming in his eyes. "Squishy feeling in my chest. Not so squishy feeling a little lower."   
  


Spike glanced down Xander's body, grinned, and suddenly rolled so he was on top of the other man. "More?"   
  


"You're insatiable," Xander said.   
  


"Have to be," Spike nipped at the brunette's neck, "what with you being the greatest shag in the universe and all."   
  


"Flattery will get you...," the vampire sucked hard and Xander moaned, "...oh so well-fucked."   
  


"Mmm," Spike purred. With his tongue, he traced a path up the immortal's neck to his ear, and whispered into it, "Sounds good to me."   
  


"But we can't."   
  


Incredulous stare. "Eh?"   
  


"It's running on midnight, and I still have to get you back to Giles's," Xander said with a glance at the chronograph on his wrist.   
  


Spike stuck his lower lip out. "Why can't I stay here, in my lovely crypt, with my lovely bed and my lovely lover?"   
  


"Because Buffy and the others will protect you in case Anthony has a trick up his sleeve," Xander answered. He smacked the blond's bare butt. "Now, scoot. Get dressed. The sooner we leave, the sooner we return and I let you have your wily wicked way with me."   
  


*****   
  
  
  


Utilizing the shortcut provided by the Hall of Doors, Xander and Spike were across the street from Giles's with twenty minutes left until midnight. Xander held Spike's hand, unashamed of the feminine action. Despite the brunette's confidence in his abilities, there was still a chance that Anthony would defeat him, and he'd never get to see Spike's mischievous smile again. The thought was completely depressing, and made Xander snippier then usual.   
  


"Once you're inside, I need you to stay with Giles until I come and get you." Xander looked at Spike, his expression serious. "Don't leave with _anyone_ , even if they say that I said to pick you up."   
  


"When will you return?" Spike asked.   
  


"As soon as I can," Xander replied, looking both ways before starting across the street. It wouldn't do to have Spike get hit by a car this close to the deadline. Mortals were funny, they could die from the most innocuous things, even if they had partial invulnerability, like vampires.   
  


But, the danger didn't come in the form of a car speeding up the street. Instead, danger was dressed in a three-piece black suit with a black silk shirt and matching tie.   
  


"Darkling," Death greeted solemnly. "Spike."   
  


"Master," Xander said without inflection. He turned to Spike, cupped his cheek, and pressed a hard kiss to his lips. "Get inside," the brunette ordered softly.   
  


Spike eyed Death, then shook his head. "No. Forget it."   
  


"Spike, now isn't the time," Xander said, his tone growing cold. He took a step back from the vampire. "Go."   
  


"My name's on that bloody list," Spike growled, "and I'm not leaving until it's off without either of us dying."   
  


"Damn it, Spike!" Xander exclaimed. Why did the idiot have to chose now to challenge him? "I said _go!_ "   
  


"No," Spike ground out firmly.   
  


"Don't make me--"   
  


"Well, well, well, isn't this a treat. The Dark Cavalier is fighting with his pet. How... mortal."   
  


Xander's angry gaze whipped towards the familiar voice and his eyes narrowed. "Anthony."   
  


"Is everything okay, Xander?" Samuel asked, walking up with Anthony to stand beside Death.   
  


Xander wasn't surprised to see either of them. He'd had a feeling Anthony would show up to gloat. However, Xander had wanted Spike out of the way before the real fighting began. "Everything's fine, Samuel," he said, keeping his eyes on Anthony.   
  


"Are you sure?" Samuel said. "I know it must be hard for you to have to Collect Spike. It's easy to see how much you like him. That's why we're here. If you want, we can take care of him for you."   
  


"The only one who's going to get taken care of is Anthony," Xander snarled.   
  


Anthony looked startled. "Pardon me?"   
  


A faint breeze kicked up. "Don't play innocent, you bastard," the Dark Cavalier said. He pulled Willow's printout from his pocket. "I have proof that you set me up. Showing up here at the final hour only adds to my evidence, and the Scales of Justice say you're going to hurt."   
  


"Poetic," Spike murmured.   
  


Xander shot a glare at Spike and hissed, "There are 2,384 ways to torture a man. Unless you want to experience all of them, _get the fuck out of here!_ "   
  


Spike's eyes widened, and he reared back slightly. With a quick nod, he took off towards Giles's.   
  


Xander watched until the vampire disappeared from sight, then turned back to the trio standing four paces away. He looked at each of them in turn, his dark eyes shining with otherworldly light. "No one is to harm even one single hair on that mortal's head."   
  


Death's brow went up. "Is that an order?"   
  


"Yes."   
  


The second brow joined the first. "Boy, I don't think--"   
  


"That's right -- don't think," Xander interrupted. "Just do what I say."   
  


Samuel gasped in horror. Even Anthony seemed agog at Xander's impertinence.   
  


Death, on the other hand, simply smirked. "I take it you wish me to erase Spike's name from the list?" Xander nodded once, the faint breeze dying down. The Last Lover sighed good-naturedly. "Very well, Darkling, as long--"   
  


"What?!" Samuel exclaimed, interrupting Death. He began to sputter and gesticulate wildly. "But- but- but--"   
  


Anthony glared angrily at Xander, the breeze kicking up again. "You prick. It's bad enough that everyone worships the ground you walk on--"   
  


"Shut up," Xander snapped. "Spike wasn't on the list to begin with, and you know it."   
  


"What do you mean?" Anthony took a step towards the brunette. "Are you implying--"   
  


"I'm not implying, I'm saying it outright," Xander snarled. He shook the printout in his hand. "You forged Spike's name because you knew I liked him and it would hurt me if I had to Collect him; just like you sent the Choata to hurt me, and how you got me sent to my mortal homeplace to hurt me."   
  


Anthony's long raven hair blew around his face as the magickal wind increased. "You're not only a sanctimonious jackass, you're a liar, as well! And this," he gestured to the printout, "with erasing Spike's name. Now, _I_ have proof of favoritism. I cannot wait to tell the other apprentices -- the mighty Dark Cavalier is nothing but a liar and a cheat. No one will respect you again, because everyone will know the truth -- you're just a plaything; Death's _Boy_ ," he sneered.   
  


Xander shoved the printout into his pocket, his scythe materializing in his other hand. "You won't be saying anything after I rip your throat out!"   
  


Anthony smirked, his own scythe appearing in his hands. "Ooh, someone's afraid of the truth getting around."   
  


Abruptly, a cold mask descended over Xander's features and the coiled tension beneath his skin relaxed. He twirled the scythe so it was behind him, the pole resting against his arm and back, the curved blade held at an angle to his knees. The wind still whipped around the four in the street, causing fallen leaves to meet for an angry dance in the air.   
  


On the path that led into the condominium complex from the street, half-hidden around the corner of the garage, Spike watched the events unfolding. His blue eyes were filled with strong emotion, and his thumbnail was already chewed down to the quick.   
  


"Master," Xander said, his emotionless voice audible to everyone despite the whistling wind. "Permission to cause Anthony Hodgkins's eternal death."   
  


Death unbuttoned his suitcoat, pushed the material back, and stuck his hands in his pockets of his pleated black trousers. He rocked on his well-shined black wingtips as he silently studied Xander. "Permission granted."   
  


"What?!" Samuel squeaked again.   
  


The words were barely out of Death's mouth when Xander attacked. He bent his knees and leapt into the air, somersaulting over Anthony's head. He landed behind the tall, raven-haired immortal, spun around, and swung his scythe for a decapitating blow.   
  


Anthony wasn't a wet-behind-the-ears apprentice, however. With a flick of his wrist, he twirled his scythe behind his back and blocked Xander's strike. The gaunt man pivoted, catching the end of his weapon and holding it parallel in front of him, blocking Xander's second attack.   
  


The flaring of Xander's nostrils was the only reaction to Anthony's defensive success. Xander rolled his scythe against Anthony's and thrust the pole end up between the other man's legs.   
  


Anthony clamped his thighs together, capturing Xander's scythe before it hit. He twisted his own weapon, the curved blade gliding on a straight path towards Xander's neck.   
  


Xander threw himself backwards, yanking his scythe from between the other immortal's legs as he fell to the ground. He quickly rolled to his left as Anthony swung his weapon like an axe. Sparks shot out from the blade as it connected the pavement.   
  


Xander's scythe disappeared as he arched to his feet, then re-materialized in his hands in time to block Anthony's swing. The Dark Cavalier leapt into the air again, landing sure-footedly between Anthony and where Samuel and Death stood. The two combatant's blades clanged as they came together, the metallic sound carrying on the wind.   
  


Xander ducked a jab with the blunt end of Anthony's scythe. The brunette immortal let his own weapon slide in his hands until he was gripping the very end, then swung the scythe like a golf club. Before it could hit, Anthony launched himself straight upwards into the air.   
  


A corner of Xander's lips went up as he repositioned his scythe, his eyes on the raven-haired immortal. There was no way for Anthony to avoid coming down in the same spot as he'd occupied a moment before, giving Xander the perfect opportunity for victory.  
  


"Xander! Behind you!"   
  


Xander's attention jerked from Anthony towards where Spike's shout of warning came from, distracting him for a few precious seconds. He heard the fall of a footstep behind him, but before he could turn, he felt a searing line of fire across his shoulders.   
  


The scythe dropped from his nerveless fingers, and it clattered loudly to the pavement. Anthony landed on the pole, lost his footing, and fell to the ground, his own scythe clacking against the street. The raven-haired man stared, dumbfounded, past Xander as a silver blade flashed under the streetlight.   
  


"You sonofabitch!" Samuel yelled, the wickedly sharp scythe in his hands slicing another line across Xander's back, from left shoulder to right hip. "You will not win this fight!"   
  


Xander arched against the strike, hissing between clenched teeth. He dove forward on his right shoulder, somersaulting up to his feet, and he quickly turned to face the new threat. "Samuel, what the hell are you doing?"   
  


The wind stung as its speed increased. Red-faced, Samuel's eyes glowed dangerously as he glared at Xander, his lips twisted into a threatening snarl. His knuckles were white as he gripped the scythe tightly in his hands.   
  


Xander whipped around when he heard pounding footsteps on the pavement behind him. "Spike, get back!" he barked at the approaching vampire.   
  


"Look out!" Spike exclaimed.   
  


The Dark Cavalier dropped to a crouch, and the whizz of the blade was loud as it sliced through the air where his head had been. He used his position to push off, leaping up and back, crashing blindly into Samuel.   
  


They both tumbled to the ground. Xander rolled quickly to his feet again and faced Samuel. The brunette sent a round kick at Samuel's face as the rotund Collector started to stand. Samuel's head snapped to the side, but that did not stop him from pushing himself off the ground into a flying tackle.   
  


Samuel clipped Xander in the legs right below the knees, sending the Dark Cavalier into an uncontrolled flip. His head hit the ground first, cracking open on the hard pavement, before he continued over onto his injured back. His legs smacked the ground with a loud slap, and he laid there on the street, breathless and in shock, blinking rapidly against the haziness clouding his vision.   
  


There was a wild howl, and Xander saw a flash of black shoot past him. Snarls and growls were caught in the wind and tossed about, filling the area with sound.   
  


With a clench of his teeth, Xander sat up and twisted to look behind him. Samuel was on his feet, his nostrils flaring with every angry breath he took, scythe once again in his hands. Death was holding a hissing, struggling, vamped-out Spike, preventing him from interfering. Anthony had risen to his feet, but was still staring at Samuel as if he'd never seen the other immortal before.   
  


Xander got to his knees and faced Samuel before he roared, " _What the hell is going on?!_ "   
  


"I _hate_ you." Samuel's ragged voice dripped with venom as he spoke. "Anthony should be Death's number one apprentice, not you."   
  


Xander blinked in disbelief. "What?"   
  


"Anthony was five points away from a perfect score on the MCE, but does anyone care?" Samuel fumed. "No, because Death's pet immortal took the exam at the same time, and the Proctors, of course, had to give Xander Harris the highest marks ever."   
  


Samuel stalked towards Xander, eyes spitting fire. "Does anyone care that Anthony traded for a second tour on Bavarish because he knew Maru Kessl'ete wouldn't be able to handle the children's realm, and he wanted to spare her from the Graveyard?" he said. "Does anyone care that not a single Collector who attended Anthony's teaching tour has ever failed? Does anyone care that Anthony volunteers to capture the Choata after the death-hunters complete their assignments in order to keep others safe? Does anyone care that Anthony takes no special favors, helps anyone who asks, and has never once been praised by the Board _or_ Death?"   
  


Samuel stopped directly in front of Xander and glared down at the kneeling brunette. "The answer is _no_. No one cares a fig about Anthony Hodgkins. Everyone's too enamored with Death's Boy, the infallible Xander Harris, who's so perfect and wonderful he even gets his own special name -- the Dark Cavalier.   
  


"Well, let me tell you something, Mr. Harris," Samuel continued. "You are _nothing_ compared to Anthony, and once I end your phony reign as Death's best Collector, everyone will know who the _real_ number one apprentice is."   
  


Xander was flabbergasted. "You're the one who set me up," he said in shock.   
  


Samuel nodded. "I forged Spike's name. I wanted you to fail, to take an innocent life or give yours in exchange, but since you're Death's butt-toy...," he trailed off and raised his scythe. "Although now, I guess Death will have to get a new plaything."   
  


" _NO!!_ " Spike screamed roughly.   
  


A hand suddenly wrapped around the weapon and stopped Samuel from cleaving Xander's head. Xander was again flabbergasted when he saw who was his rescuer.   
  


"Samuel, don't," Anthony said, taking the scythe from Samuel.   
  


Samuel turned to the taller immortal. "Why? If I don't get rid of him, no one will know that you're the best."   
  


For the first time ever, Xander saw Anthony truly smile; a non-mocking, eye-crinkling, completely sincere smile. "All the praise and all the recognition in the universe would never compare to how I feel at this very moment," Anthony said, reaching out to brush the backs of his fingers against Samuel's cheek. "You were going to destroy Xander... for me."   
  


"Of course it was for you," Samuel said. "I'd do anything for you."   
  


"Oh, Samuel," Anthony said softly. "Eight hundred years together, and you still find ways to make me love you more."   
  


The wind died down and the scythes disappeared as Anthony and Samuel's lips met in a tender kiss.   
  


Love. Samuel tried to send Xander to his eternal death because of love. A day ago, Xander wouldn't have recognized the emotion that flowed between the two standing in front of him. A day ago, he wouldn't have cared why Samuel had attacked him. A day ago, he would have been using the other two immortals' distraction to destroy them both.   
  


That was a day ago, before he'd learned about love.   
  


Xander leaned over to look past the two Collectors. Spike, still in game-face but no longer struggling, was staring in his direction with fear and anger. The brunette raised his gaze and saw Death's amused smirk. The Last Lover shook his head, sighed, and released the vampire.   
  


The Dark Cavalier lifted his arms and caught Spike in a tight embrace. It hurt -- it hurt lots, he'd underestimated the little fucker -- but he wasn't about to relinquish the feeling of holding Spike. He'd almost lost. If it hadn't been for Anthony, he _would_ have. Death wouldn't have saved him, because Death did not know real love.   
  


Neither had Xander, which was what had made him the perfect apprentice... until he'd literally run into Spike.   
  


"I'm going to kill them," Spike growled in the brunette's ear. "Let me up, so I can tear their bodies inside out."   
  


Xander chuckled and squeezed the vampire a little tighter. "That's okay, Spike. No one needs to die tonight."   
  


Death cleared his throat loudly, breaking apart Anthony and Samuel's kiss. "Darkling, I don't mean to be the downer, but it's one minute to midnight, and Spike's name is still on the list."   
  


Xander released Spike as he gave his Master a puzzled look. "But Spike's name was forged. Samuel admitted to setting me up."   
  


"Then it is Samuel who shall take Spike's place," Death said.   
  


"No, he will not," Anthony stated, pushing Samuel protectively behind him. "I would spend an eternity in torment before I allowed you to even look disparagingly at Samuel."   
  


Death's brow went up. "I gather that means you're taking Samuel's place."   
  


"No." Xander climbed to his feet, with some help from Spike, and moved to stand beside Anthony. "I can't let you take Anthony."   
  


"And so my Dark Cavalier now chooses to replace Anthony," Death said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Tell me, Dearheart, are you prepared for everlasting pain?"   
  


"There's no bloody way I'm letting a nonce like you hurt Xander," Spike growled, stepping close to Xander's side. "You'll have to dust me first."   
  


"Anyone else?" Death asked wryly.   
  


"Y-Yes," Samuel stuttered, peeking around Anthony. "Spike's an innocent, and I put his name on the list, so I should be the one to, um, g-go."   
  


"And we've circled back to the beginning," Death sighed. "Love, a misbegotten emotion that leads both mortals and immortals to do the stupidest things."   
  


"Does that mean you're erasing Spike's name from the list?" Xander asked warily.   
  


Death studied the four defiant ones for a moment, then rolled his eyes. "Oh, very well. Spike is no longer on your list."   
  


Xander turned to Spike, grinning widely, and was about to pull the vampire into another hug when Death interrupted him.   
  


"But," Death said, giving Xander a pointed look. "I have a feeling that your pet mortal may knock you from your pedestal of perfection, and I cannot have my number one apprentice shame me."   
  


Xander shifted uncomfortably. "I won't, Master. I promise."   
  


Death clucked his tongue. "I wasn't finished speaking, Boy."   
  


Xander flushed bright red and bowed his head, chastised. He heard Anthony snicker and fought against reacting.   
  


"As I was saying," Death went on. "Since I cannot have my best Collector disgrace me, I shall simply have to cut you loose and give you your own apprentice to train."   
  


Xander's head shot up. "What?"   
  


Death ignored Xander and turned to Spike. "Spike, how would you like a job as the Dark Cavalier's apprentice?"   
  
  
  
  
  


**Part Sixteen**   
  


 

Death suspended Samuel for two months, effective immediately, and confined him to the Academy grounds for his nefarious activities. In the same breath, Death praised Anthony for centuries of good work, rewarded him with a two month vacation, effective immediately, and did he know that the Academy was lovely this time of year?   
  


Perhaps Death knew more about love than Xander had previously thought.   
  


After a quick patch-up of Xander's back, Death had informed Xander that he was temporarily relieved of his duties, effective immediately, so that he could take on an apprentice. The Master of Mortals had wished Xander luck, and then had started to laugh as he escorted Anthony and Samuel away. Xander knew that Death had been laughing _at_ him, and it did nothing to quell the sudden nervousness he felt about having his own apprentice.   
  


"Are you sure you want to do this?" Xander asked the blond vampire as they stopped outside of Giles's door. "It's not too late to change your mind."   
  


"Are you kidding?" Spike gave him a crooked grin. "I get to become practically invincible, kill mortals, and shag you for an eternity. You bet your sweet arse I want this."   
  


Xander chuckled. "Okay then," he gestured to the door, "after you."   
  


Buffy and Willow were sitting on the couch and Giles was in the kitchen when Spike and Xander entered. The original Scoobies, Xander thought. It seemed fitting that the four who had first battled Spike were together to witness the vampire's mortal demise.   
  


"I take it you were successful in thwarting your antagonist?" Giles inquired.   
  


"Yes," Xander said. He smiled at Willow. "And you were right, Wills. It was Samuel, the one I least suspected. I wouldn't make a good _A &E_ detective."   
  


"Ooh, what was his motive?" Willow asked excitedly. "Jealousy? Revenge? Bad hair day?"   
  


"Love."   
  


Confused, as were the others, Buffy asked, "This Samuel was trying to kill both you and Spike out of love?"   
  


"He was channeling his inner-Angelus," Spike sniggered.   
  


Buffy scowled. "Not funny."   
  


"No, it wasn't," Xander turned to Spike and winked, "I think you should stake him for that, Buffy."   
  


"Don't tempt me," the Slayer commented.   
  


"Actually, that's why we're here," Xander said, looking back at Buffy. "I thought you'd like the honors of staking the Peroxide Wonder."   
  


"Huh?"   
  


"Xander, you can't be serious," Willow said. "Buffy can't stake Spike."   
  


"Yes, I can," Buffy said quickly.   
  


"Willow is right," Giles said, joining them in the living room. "As much as it pains me to admit this, Spike has been invaluable to us... at times. When he's feeling altruistic, or is in dire need of money. Plus, he is, in essence, still a- a somewhat defenseless creature because of his chip, and it's our duty to protect him," he paused, "and now I need something strong to wash this bad taste from my mouth."   
  


Xander looked at Spike and rolled his eyes. "I guess I should have explained first," the brunette said. "Spike is going to join the ranks of apprentices, and in order for him to do that, his mortal life needs to end."   
  


"I said I'll do it," Buffy piped up.   
  


"But won't Spike go poof?" Willow said. "How can he be an apprentice if he's a big pile of dust?"   
  


"It's only temporary poofage, Willow," Xander explained. "He'll be wholly fuckable again within minutes."   
  


"So, can I stake him now?" Buffy said, looking hopefully at Giles.   
  


"I think that's Spike's decision," Giles said. "He is, after all, the one going to be staked."   
  


All eyes focused on the vampire. Spike's cockiness had disappeared as the conversation had flowed around him and doubts began to surface. He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted uncomfortably. "I... uh..."   
  


Xander put his hands on Spike's arms and looked into his scared blue eyes. "We don't have to do this," the immortal said quietly. "I'll still love you if you choose to stay mortal."   
  


Spike pursed his lips for a moment, searching Xander's gaze. "You sure I'll come back after Buffy stakes me?"   
  


"I'm positive."   
  


Spike swallowed, took a purposeful breath and blew it out quickly. He nodded. "Let's do this."   
  


Xander smiled gently, leaned forward and brushed his lips across Spike's. "I love you," he murmured softly.   
  


"Same here," Spike said hoarsely. He cleared his throat and looked past Xander's shoulder. "Well, Slayer, it looks like this is your lucky night."   
  


"Goody!" Buffy jumped up, grabbed a stake from the coffee table, and quickly rounded the couch. "I've been wanting to do this for _so_ long."   
  


Xander squeezed Spike's arms, then stepped back. Spike squared his shoulders, set his jaw, and slightly spread his arms. "Do it."   
  


"Maybe we'll get lucky and you won't come back," Buffy said wistfully, just before she plunged the stake into Spike's chest.   
  


Xander caught Spike's wide-eyed, fear-filled gaze before the vampire disintegrated into a pile of ash.   
  


"Oh my God," Willow breathed, staring at the dust on the floor in front of Buffy. "I can't believe you actually staked him."   
  


Buffy blinked several times, a stunned look on her face. "Me, neither."   
  


"I'm a bit dazed, myself," Giles added.   
  


As the blond Slayer backed slowly away, Xander crouched beside his lover's remains. He plucked a small metallic object from the ash and tossed it to Giles. "One chip, finally removed."   
  


"Fascinating," Giles said, removing his glasses to look closer at the chip. "This tiny thing was all that was stopping Spike from killing."   
  


"Willow, I don't feel happy," Buffy said, sinking onto the couch beside the redhead. "Why don't I feel happy?"   
  


Willow half-embraced the blond, tears in her eyes. "He'll be back soon," she raised her voice, "Right, Xander? He'll be back soon."   
  


The ash in front of Xander began to shift and glow. "Sooner than I thought," the brunette replied.   
  


Buffy and Willow quickly turned, kneeling up on the couch to easily see over the back. Giles backed partially into the hallway and put his glasses back on. Xander stayed crouched where he was, his gaze not moving from the vampire's ashes.   
  


Particles of glowing golden dust rose from the floor and danced together, like pixie dust in Disney movies. The particles began to twirl faster and faster, spinning a glowing flaxen cocoon that grew larger and larger.   
  


The otherworldly light from the golden cocoon suddenly pulsed brightly, blinding everyone for a second. When their vision cleared, the glowing dust was gone, and Spike lay on the floor half-curled on his side, as naked as a newborn babe.   
  


"Wow," Willow breathed. "No wonder Xander likes to have wild monkey sex with him."   
  


"I knew he wasn't a true blond," Buffy commented. She and Willow exchanged glances and giggled.   
  


"Here," Giles said, retrieving a black duster which had been thrown over the stair rail. He passed it to Xander. "Buffy found Spike's duster while she was on patrol earlier. Use it to cover him up before I have a naked Spike permanently tattooed in my mind."   
  


"Thanks, Giles," Xander said. He carefully laid the well-worn leather coat over Spike, who was just opening his eyes. "Well, hi, there," the brunette said quietly. "Welcome back."   
  


Spike moved like lightning, scrambling to his feet, clutching the coat to him. He started panting animalistically, suddenly game-faced, his yellow eyes wild as he looked from person to person.   
  


"Spike?" Xander said tentatively as he straightened.   
  


Spike growled once, then ground out through his fangs, "Don't _ever_ let me do something that stupid again."   
  


Xander threw back his head and laughed. He opened his arms, and Spike stepped into his embrace. He pressed a kiss to the vampire's temple, still chuckling. "This is going to be fun."   
  


"My duster!" Spike exclaimed abruptly, his features returning to human. He wiggled out of Xander's arms and looked at the coat still clutched in his hands. "You found my duster!" There was a slight breeze and he looked down. "And you took my clothes."   
  


"You look better naked, anyway," Xander flirted.   
  


"Here, here," Willow whispered to Buffy. The girls giggled again.   
  


"Oi! Unless you have money, no gawking at the merchandise!" Spike slid his coat on, holding it closed in front, effectively covering all his dangly bits.   
  


"Spike, I think that you would like to keep this more than I would." Giles held out his hand. "Or-or perhaps you'd like the honors of destroying it."   
  


"Is that what I think it is?" Spike said, taking the small metal chip from Giles's hand.   
  


"You're chip-free and primed for killing mortals," Xander confirmed.   
  


Spike perked up. "Can I start with Buffy?"   
  


"Watch it, Blondie," Buffy said. "I staked you once, I can do it again."   
  


"No more killing tonight," Xander said. "As of right now, Spike, you are my apprentice and my word is law. If I say 'hemrik,' you say 'lemlin yfid.'"   
  


Spike's scarred brow went up. "What language was that?"   
  


"Just one of an unbelievable number of languages that you'll have to learn," Xander replied, starting for the door.   
  


"You're leaving?" Willow said.   
  


Xander stopped, looked back at the redhead, and nodded. "Yeah."   
  


"Will we ever see you again?" she asked, forlornly.   
  


"You weren't supposed to see me in the first place," Xander replied. "Your friend Xander Harris died two Earth years ago, Willow, and he's not coming back."   
  


"Can I still miss you?"   
  


Xander smiled gently at her, then looked to Spike. "Come along, Brightling, we have work to do. Your first lesson requires soft sheets and pillows, and will be graded on participation." He winked, turned, and walked through the door.   
  


Spike quickly walked to the door, stopped in front of it, and faced the others again. "I guess this is goodbye, folks. I won't miss you, and I can't say that it's been fun."   
  


Buffy rolled her eyes. "Mutual, Spike."   
  


"Yes, we shall all shed many a tear at your departure," Giles said dryly. He removed his glasses and started to wipe the lenses as he added, "Take care of him, will you?"   
  


"I will," Spike promised. He suddenly smiled devilishly. "Hey Slayer."   
  


"Yeah, Spike?"   
  


Spike yanked his coat open, flashed her, then stepped through the closed door.   
  


Xander was leaning against the stone picnic table, a half-smile on his face. "Ready?" he asked the blond when he appeared.   
  


"Yeah," Spike said, pocketing the chip as he crossed to Xander. He grabbed for the ends of his coat belt, but Xander stopped him, a twinkle in his dark eyes.   
  


"You remember what I said about your first lesson?" Xander said, sliding his hands beneath the vampire's open duster.   
  


"Sheets, pillows and participation," Spike replied, wrapping his arms around the brunette's neck and pressing his nude body to Xander's clothed one.   
  


The Dark Cavalier's smile gleamed in the darkness. "Forget the sheets and pillows part."   
  


"I can do that," Spike said before snatching Xander's smile up in a kiss.   
  


At the top of the stairs to the courtyard, Death shook his sun-kissed blond head and sighed. "Love. I've lost so many of my personally-trained apprentices to that silly emotion, one would start to think that I encouraged them to find it."   
  


The Choata at his side looked up at him and softly whined.   
  


Death wrinkled his nose at the death-hunter. "Oh shush. Just because I assigned Xander to a tour of duty at his mortal homeplace and knew that he'd run into his mortal bondmate, doesn't mean that I set him up."   
  


The Choata snorted.   
  


"Although, I was surprised by Samuel forging Spike's name to my Darkling's list," Death continued. "I should have thought of that myself."   
  


The Choata made a sound like a rumbling laugh and started to leave.   
  


Death smiled, took one last look at the couple entwined on the stone picnic table below, then followed the Choata. A frown replaced the smile, and he said to his furry companion, "Tell me the truth: was sending your brethren after them overkill...."   
  
  
  
  
  


**End**


End file.
